Rules of Survival
by Loudmouth Lamb
Summary: "They'd reached the boundary between Town and Seam. The end of the line." Madge Undersee and Gale Hawthorne are bound together, for better or worse, the moment Katniss volunteers for the 74th Hunger Games. The line between love and survival blurs off screen in District 12 between the star-crossed lovers no one ever heard about.
1. The Reaping

**AN:** This is my first Gadge fic. It's not groundbreakingly original, but I'm experimenting some with the style of the story telling. Basically, I'm writing this for my own enjoyment, but hey, if it makes you happy too that's great :)

* * *

"I lost my first thought in the morning. I lost my prayer in the night."

Robert Uy

"Our female tribute from District Twelve is…" Effie Trinket struggled to unfold the slip of paper with her long, pointed finger nails. If the Reaping Ceremony didn't end soon, Madge feared she'd begin sweating through her dress.

"Primrose Everdeen!" announced Effie joyfully. As the name sank into the crowd, Madge forgot the sun. She whipped her head round to Katniss, standing beside her. Their eyes locked and Madge saw the future taking shape in the shadows of the unknown. She wound her fingers through Katniss'. Their sweaty palms stuck together. She felt Katniss' racing pulse against her wrist, beating staccato to her own heart's rapid flutter. No, she thought, her mouth forming the word without sound, please no.

Katniss broke eye contact. Their hands came apart with a squelch.

"I volunteer as tribute!" cried Katniss, trampling over Madge's toes to reach the end of their row. Madge didn't feel a thing. She grasped at the empty air.

* * *

"Take care of them, Gale," pleaded Katniss, as the Peacekeepers hauled him from the room. "Whatever you do, don't let them starve!

"I pro-" The door shut between them. Just like that, Katniss was gone. "Get off me," he snapped, shaking his arm free of the Peacekeeper's iron grip. There were two of them standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the door. Gale took a step forward, intent on fighting his way through them. He needed more time. He needed a lifetime to tell Katniss everything he wanted to.

But then he felt a light touch on his arm. "Can I see her now?" asked Madge Undersee. She didn't spare a glance for Gale. It was like she didn't even realize she was touching him. His gut reaction was to jerk away, but he was frozen in shock. His head spinning. This was all happening so fast. This was all so surreal, especially Madge Undersee's fingers pressing against his skin.

* * *

"Be quick about it," said one of the Peacekeepers. Madge didn't recognize either of them. They were from the Capitol. She was frightened of them, of their faces so much harder than the Peacekeepers of Twelve, and their eyes with mercy, but to see Katniss, she had to walk through them.

It wasn't until she took a tentative step forward that she became aware of whose arm she was clinging to. Still, she didn't want to let go. Her knees trembled under her pink, paisley dress.

"Go on, girl," said one of the Peacekeepers. "We've got a train to catch."

Madge bristled at being called girl. She was the mayor's daughter, not just some girl. She clutched her aunt's mockingjay pin. The gold-edged wings cut into her palm. As soon as she let go of Gale Hawthorne, her knees threatened to buckle. She ducked her blonde head and hurried past the Peacekeepers. The door closed behind her with a solemn, heavy click.

* * *

From the edge of the platform, Gale watched the tail end of the train whip around the bend and disappear. Only this morning, he and Katniss were eating strawberries together in the woods, and now she was gone. Too late he realized what he should have done. He should've volunteered for Peeta Mellark, to keep Katniss safe, to ensure she came home. The Reaping had been a whirlwind and his focus had been on restraining Prim. He hadn't even heard Peeta's name called until it was too late.

Gale kicked a pebble over the platform's edge and watched it soar over the tracks. His body screamed to leap down and run after the train, to put a stop to this nightmare before it solidified into reality, but he was held back by his promise to Katniss. Take care of them, Gale. Whatever you do, don't let them starve. Someone had to take care of Prim. If he'd volunteered, if he chased after the train now, she would starve.

But who will take care of you? he thought at Katniss, knowing what her response would be. I can take care of myself.

He heard footsteps approaching from behind, but didn't turn to look.

"She's coming back, you know," said Madge Undersee.

Gale didn't speak. He kept staring at the end of the railroad tracks. When he finally turned to the mayor's daughter, he saw that her cheeks were streaked with tears and his heart hardened. He would not let the Peacekeepers see him cry for Katniss.

He left the mayor's daughter to stand alone on the platform.

* * *

Madge was selfish. She knew that about herself. It was a character flaw born of being an only child. She was a thief, too.

"I can't find it," her mother raged as she clawed the sheets off the bed, searching for something lost.

"Find what, Mama?" asked Madge, not daring to go any closer. Her mother often lashed out during fits like this. It was best to wait for them to blow over.

"Maysilee's pin," said Mrs. Undersee. She turned her wild eyes to her daughter.

"It'll turn up," said Madge, her lies smooth as silk. She'd been telling lies since she learned to talk. Everything is alright, Mama. Nothing was alright. Yes, it's me, Maysilee. I'm here. Aunt Maysilee was dead. Madge had never met her. "I bet if you get some rest, you'll remember where it is when you wake up," she said now, remaking the bed her mother had just destroyed. The mockingjay wouldn't be there when she woke up, but her mother would forget about it for a while.

She coaxed her mother into bed and tucked the covers tightly around her narrow shoulders. Madge rarely touched her mother, afraid of shattering her, but she couldn't resist the sudden urge to press a soft kiss to her paper thin brow, as if in atonement for the mockingjay pin she'd stolen to give to Katniss. The kiss left her longing for so much more. She wanted to burrow under the covers and tangle herself in her mother, cry herself to sleep, be held, be loved, be noticed.

"You're right, May," her mother said dreamily. "I just need to sleep on it."

Madge drew back, stung by the name of her long-dead aunt. I'm not Maysilee, she wanted to scream, I'm Margaret, your daughter. Instead she said only, "Ring if you need me," as she flicked the silver bell on the bedside table. Her mother was already fast asleep.

* * *

Gale wasn't surprised to find his mother waiting at the kitchen table when he slunk home in the dead of night. He stopped in the doorway, pinched with guilt for having made her worry. He'd lost track of time in the woods. Or rather, time had lost track of him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" asked Hazelle. Gale clamped his lips together. His throat was raw from screaming at the wind. There were no words to describe how he felt. Katniss was gone.

In three strides, his mother crossed the room and folded him up into her arms. Gale sunk into her, the full weight of today crashing over him. Katniss was gone, just like that. The Capitol had stolen her and he hadn't done a damn thing to stop them.

"Oh, my baby," said Hazelle, "She'll come home. She's strong." Her tears fell hot against the back of Gale's neck. He hid his face in her shirt, but he hadn't cried since the day his father died, and he couldn't remember how to do it now, so he clung to his mother as the world crumbled around him.

* * *

It was well past midnight by the time Madge was able to steal away to her room. She'd given her mother enough morphling to keep her under through the night. Her father was out late. Come dawn, he'd stumble home, reeking of liquor. Mayor Undersee rarely drank. He was a good father, a good man, but Reaping Day was too much for him. Every year, he was forced to stand on the stage with a smile, waiting to find out if his only daughter would be chosen as tribute. Every year when it wasn't her name drawn, he felt relief, followed immediately by guilt as he shook the hand of whichever unlucky girl would die in his daughter's place.

Most of the time, Madge was grateful for the good life her parents provided. She never had to worry about starvation or freezing to death. She had hot, running water, maids to care for her every need, a library full of worlds to escape to, and feather pillows aplenty. But on Reaping Day, the Capitol's reminder to them all that their lives were not their own, Madge wanted to burn every bit of it to the ground. Let the flames be a message to President Snow- You do not own me.

Most of the time, she wasn't brave enough to even think about such rebellion. She would never be brave enough to act. Not even on Reaping Day.

Madge shimmied out of her Reaping dress, letting it puddle around her ankles. She glared at it, remembering what Gale Hawthorne had said just that morning. Pretty dress. It was pretty. Offensively so. She picked it up with two fingers, holding it away from her body like it was drenched in poison, and moved to the fireplace. Her stomach clenched with fear as she held the dress over the flames, letting the hem catch fire. She held on a second longer, before letting go.

She watched the dress burn, overcome by a sense of giddy release, until there was nothing left but ash and a dozen charred buttons.


	2. You Do the Math

"And, while the sky grows dim and dimmer, feel no untold and strange distress."

Charlotte Bronte

Madge couldn't concentrate in class. She was supposed to be doing arithmetic, but the sums on the blackboard blurred out of focus and, instead, she saw Katniss and Peeta. The flames of their costumes and their hands intertwined in the air were burned into her retinas. It's not real, her father had said. Whether he meant the flames, or the hand-holding, or both, Madge didn't know.

She looked across the room to where Peeta used to sit. Once, when the teacher called on her and she floundered for the correct response to the question asked, Peeta whispered the answer to her. She remembered that small kindness now.

For Katniss to come home, Peeta and twenty-two others would have to die. Madge turned her eyes back to the blackboard. She hated arithmetic. Always had.

* * *

The other students kept their distance from Gale, like he was something contagious. The teachers gave him sympathetic smiles. His lab partner had asked to be reassigned, but he supposed that was his fault. He shouldn't have lashed out at Delly. She'd only meant to comfort him.

"I know how you feel," she'd said over the pile of minerals they were meant to be labelling. "Peeta's my friend. Watching him on the television last night...it was...horrible."

Gale cradled his bruised fist to his chest. He shouldn't have slammed it against the desk, but in the moment, his only thought was to make Delly stop talking. She was standing across the yard now, her friends flocked around her in a protective circle, throwing glares in his direction. She was still crying.

"Peeta's going to die," he'd told her. It was the only option he was willing to consider. Peeta and twenty-two others were going to die and he prayed to the universe that they would, because there was no other way for Katniss to come home. So no, he doubted that sweet Delly Cartwright from Town understood how he felt. He doubted she was capable of wishing someone dead, let alone twenty-two children.

Lunch break was almost over. When the bell rang, no one noticed him slip behind the school building. He couldn't go back inside. He didn't belong with decent people.

* * *

After lunch, Madge went to the nurse, claimed a migraine, and was given permission to go home. As the mayor's daughter and top of her class, no one questioned her honesty. This wasn't the first time she'd played hookie, but it was the first time she didn't just go home, and hole up in the library, where she learned more important things than were taught in school. Like the names of stars and that, hundreds of years ago, before Panem, people wrote poetry. She'd been content with her lonely life of reading and piano playing, until Katniss opened her eyes to what words and music notes couldn't give. Companionship, recognition, even if it was mostly silent.

Madge didn't have a destination in mind. Her feet took her to the boundary between Town and Seam. She stopped. It wasn't illegal to be here. Still, she checked for Peacekeepers. Katniss had never been inside of the mayor's house, but Madge had never even seen where Katniss lived. There were boundaries to their friendship.

It would be easy to cross the line. There was no electric fence to stop her, only an ingrained fear of breaking the rules.

Then she heard a low, throaty growl from behind. Madge swallowed hard. She turned her head just enough to catch a glimpse of something big, black, and four-legged from the corner of her eye. She bolted straight for the Seam, her fear of dogs outweighing her fear of the unknown.

* * *

Gale was nearing home when a blur of pink and blonde flashed by.

"Watch where you're…" The girl who'd bumped into him didn't stop, but she glanced back. In that small second, he recognized her. It was none other than Madge do-no-wrong Undersee racing wild through the Seam. He wondered what she was doing, skipping school. When she whipped around the corner, he realized the better question was, where the hell is she going?

At the end of the road, Gale went left, after Madge, away from home.

* * *

Madge couldn't catch her breath. Her heart threatened to beat from her chest. She was terrified of looking back again, but she had to know if the dog was still after her. It wasn't. She stopped, gasping for air in the quiet twilight, her eyes on the opposite end of the street. She tensed at the dull thud of footsteps. A shadowy figure slunk around the corner. Only a man…

Still, she didn't want them to catch her, either. She made a sharp right and kept going at a clipped pace. Sweat prickled under her collar. Her feet squelched in the mud, so did the man's. Each time she rounded another corner, she stole a glance at him. He always appeared just in time to see which direction she turned.

Whoever he was, whatever he wanted, he was following her. Madge darted between run-down shack-houses, circled behind outhouses, and trampled through scraggly gardens, losing herself deeper in the Seam as she tried to shake him. She lost the road. The houses became scarce and then there were none.

She stumbled onto a muddy trail and followed it, hoping it would lead her back to...well, somewhere. The man was still following her. He was an ominous speck in the near distance. She walked faster, and faster, until she was running again.

* * *

By the time Madge began to run again, Gale had given up on figuring out where she meant to go. If she kept on in this direction, she'd hit the fence in a little over a mile. He jogged after her. Surely she wasn't going into the woods. It would be dark soon and the woods were no place to be alone at night, especially not for the mayor's daughter.

Ahead of him, Madge tripped. She hit the ground on her hands and knees. Gale slowed down, waiting for her to get up. After a few minutes, when she still hadn't moved, he wondered if she was hurt. Gale didn't want to go to her. Whatever she was doing out here was none of his concern, but he'd followed her this far. He couldn't just leave her, possibly injured.

He approached slowly.

* * *

Madge couldn't run anymore. She curled her fingers around a rock near where she'd landed, and she waited, not daring to glance back now. The element of surprise was all she had. Her stalker's feet squelched closer, closer. She could hear him breathing, he was so close. Her head ruptured with a thousand terrible scenarios for how this chase would end.

She panicked. Unable to wait a second longer, she rolled over and flung the rock without pausing to take aim.

* * *

The rock struck Gale square in the gut. He doubled over from pain and shock. The mayor's daughter had just assaulted him. He wasn't sure what to make of that.

* * *

Madge leapt to her feet. "Why are you stalking me?" she demanded, hating the quiver in her voice. She scoured the ground for another rock. Though the man was doubled over, he was obviously much larger than her. Instinct urged her to flee while she had the chance, but she was too tired, and too afraid of darting around him.

"If you hurt me," she said, doing her best to sound important, and strong, and all that she wasn't. "Then I'll-"

The man raised his head and she faltered, her mouth hanging open.

* * *

"You'll do what?" said Gale. "Stone me to death?"

Madge continued to gape at him like she'd been struck, not him. Her hair frizzed in a golden halo around her cherry red face. She was always so put together, infuriatingly perfect, never a blonde hair out of place. Now she was panting, mud splattered up to her elbows, blood dripping down her scraped knees.

"Close your mouth, Undersee," he said.

She did, but only for a second. "Why are you following me?" she asked again.

"Why were you running?"

"Because you were chasing me! I thought…" She trailed off, her eyes darting to the ground. Gale clenched his jaw.

"You thought anyone from the Seam must be a psycho killer," he finished for her.

"No," said Madge. "That's not...I don't…"

"Save it," said Gale. He knew what she thought about him, people like him.

He'd already turned his back on her, when she muttered, "There was a dog."

"What?" he said, looking at her over his shoulder.

* * *

Madge sighed, funneling the tension from her body. "A dog," she repeated. "It was chasing me. Then you were. I just panicked." She waited for him to respond, but he kept scowling at her over his shoulder, arms folded over his chest. His stern, closed-off expression reminded her painfully of Katniss.

She shifted her weight from foot to foot, chafing under Gale's hostile scrutiny. He made her feel small, out of place, even when he was selling strawberries at her own back door. Now she was in his territory and the feeling amplified to unbearable heights.

"I don't like dogs," she blurted. "I was bit when I was younger." Her hand trailed lightly over the old scars hidden under the wrinkled, muddy fabric of her tailor-made dress. "It was pretty bad," she continued nervously, filling the silence. "I had to get over fifty stitches. Ever since, I have these recurring nightmares about being mauled by giant dogs."

* * *

Gale didn't know why she was telling him any of this, as if he cared about her nightmares. It was odd, though. Madge Undersee had always been around, dancing at the edges of his life in her pink dresses and shiny shoes, but he'd never considered that she had dreams and fears.

A week ago, if someone had told him they'd seen the mayor's daughter slogging it through the Seam, he wouldn't have believed them. Yet here she was, bleeding, scared, human. He looked around for the supposed dog, before turning his body to her in full. "They can smell fear," he said. Madge cocked her head to the side, clearly confused. "Dogs," he added. "If you don't run, they'll leave you alone most of the time."

* * *

Did Gale Hawthorne smell her fear?

She tucked her hair behind her ears in an attempt to put herself together, but her dirty hands only left a smudge of dirt on her cheek. She was being silly. Gale wouldn't hurt her. She didn't need to be afraid of him. "Oh," she said, "Most of the time. That's helpful."

Gale shrugged. "What are you doing out here, anyway?" he asked.

Madge searched for a lie. For once, nothing came to her. There was something about his Seam gray eyes in the gathering dark that wouldn't allow for lies. This was the longest one on one conversation she'd had with Gale Hawthorne and it wasn't going well, so she threw caution to the wind. "I wanted to see where Katniss lived."

Gale's eyes hardened.

"Where she lives," said Madge hurriedly, horrified by her use of the past tense.

"Why?" snapped Gale. "You never visited her before."

She winced at the none-too-subtle accusation, that she and Katniss weren't friends. "She never invited me," said Madge Even if she had extended an invitation, Madge wouldn't have accepted. Katniss understood. Gale Hawthorne probably never would. He was still glaring at her. The injustice of it curdled in her chest. She didn't have to justify her friendships to him.

So then why was she so compelled to make him understand. "I just…" Madge twisted her muddy hands together. "I thought if I could just see where she lived...lives...She's so far away. I wanted to feel close to her for a little while. You're not the only one who misses her, alright?"

* * *

Gale had so many responses, he couldn't chose from them. He wanted to tell her that she didn't know Katniss well enough to miss her the way he did. No one knew how he felt. Not Delly Cartwright. Certainly not Madge Undersee.

"Alright," he finally said, just to put an end to the conversation. The sun was setting fast and he'd promised Prim to swing by. The mayor's daughter had sidetracked him long enough. He spun around and set off towards home.

* * *

Madge was stung by his brusque response. She refused to let it show. Not that it mattered. Gale Hawthorne was already walking away. If only she could eat her own words. In the wake of her honesty, she felt raw, exposed. For a moment, she'd let herself hope it was possible to make a connection with him, that his walls would crumble as easily as her own. Idiot, she cursed herself.

After his rejection, the last thing she wanted to do was follow him, but her choices were few. She didn't know where she was. Her father would be worried, assuming he'd noticed she wasn't home yet. Her mother…

She didn't want to think about her mother. She watched Gale move further and further away, torn between pride and the fear of being left alone, after dark, in the Seam.

A dog howled nearby and she made up her mind.

* * *

Madge was keeping a careful distance behind him. She moved quietly, but he'd noticed that about her before, how good she was at blending in, fading out around the edges until she became something not quite solid. It was a quality he considered untrustworthy.

He was a hunter, though. His senses were sharp. He knew when he wasn't alone just by the weight of the air, the prick of eyes at the back of his neck. By the time he reached the first smattering of houses, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Now who's stalking who?" he said, looking back. Madge froze mid-step and he almost laughed at the absurdity of her expression.

"I'm going this way too," she said.

Gale rolled his eyes. He bet she didn't have a clue where she was going. She was lost and, of course, refusing to admit it. If she wouldn't ask for help, why should he give it? The answer came to him immediately. Because he didn't want her to follow him home, which seemed to be her plan.

"Come on," he said, resigned. He supposed it was partly his fault she'd gotten so lost to begin with. "I'll take you out of the Seam."

"You don't have to-"

He held up a hand to silence her. "The offer won't stand long, Undersee. Take it now or go your own way."

* * *

They continued in silence, side by side now. Madge kept one foot on the path and the other in the grass. Now that she wasn't fleeing for her life, she was able to drink in her surroundings. They strolled down a row of worn-down houses, all identical. A man, coated in coal dust from head to toe, sat on the steps of a porch and puffed on a pipe. His smoke drifted across her face, making her sneeze. She heard a woman singing softly through an open window.

Gradually, Madge relaxed, lulled by the stillness of evening.

"So, what did you give her?" asked Gale.

"What?" said Madge, startled.

"Katniss," he forced out the name. "You had something in your hand when you visited her on Reaping Day."

Madge was surprised he'd noticed her at all that day. "My pin," she said.

"Is it special or something?"

"No," she said, returning to the safety of lies. "She seemed to like it. I wanted to give her something to remember home by, until she comes back."

* * *

He remembered the pin she wore on Reaping Day. A gold mockingjay in flight. It was worth more than anything Katniss owned. It was utterly useless. The mayor's daughter probably had thousands of fancy trinkets to throw away.

She had that certainty in her voice again, though.

"You really believe she's coming home?" said Gale.

"I know she is," said Madge.

"She'll have to kill people."

"I know that, too," she snapped, her cheeks flooding with color. "I've watched the Games all my life, same as you. I know how it works."

Gale stopped. They were at the boundary between Town and Seam. The end of the line. He clasped his hands behind him and rocked onto his heels as he inspected the mayor's daughter. There was no trace of fear on her face now. She stared defiantly back at him.

"Katniss will do what she has to," she said, so serious that Gale thought, maybe, just maybe, she did understand.

"Yeah, well…" He turned his eyes towards Town, at all the cheery light shining in the windows. "You know where to go from here."

* * *

With home in sight and Gale Hawthorne walking away yet again, Madge was suddenly transported to the Reaping. She felt Katniss' hand slipping from her own. Being close to Gale gave her a pale shadow of Katniss' company. They were so similar. She saw her friend in his easy, long-legged stride, heard her in his guarded, monotone voice, smelled her in the coal dust gathered in the seams of his clothes.

"Thank you," Madge called after him. He didn't seem to hear.

But then, without looking back, he said, "Just keep to your side from now on, Undersee."

The illusion shattered. He wasn't anything like her friend. Katniss was a thousand miles away.


	3. Smile

"That's why I'm not to be trusted. Because a wound to the heart is also a wound to the mind."

Louise Gluck

The training scores were unusually high across the board this year. Madge perched on the edge of her seat, hands fisted in her lap, nails biting into palms. She was a coiled spring, fighting against coming unsprung. All around her were Capitol people. Six of them to be exact, the interview crew, each more freakish than the last. They came twice a year, like clockwork to the very second. It took a month to prepare the empty houses in the Victor's Village for their stay. Fortunately, Haymitch was always gone this time of year.

There wasn't much entertainment to be found in Twelve, so they resorted to watching the Games. The Capitolites didn't complain. They couldn't get enough of children slaughtering each other. Only one thing had changed. Unlike usual, Madge didn't hang to their every word for news. She wasn't the least bit interested in their colorful hair, painted faces, and outlandish surgical alterations. She only had eyes and ears for the training scores.

Katniss' revolving image appeared on screen and Madge drew a sharp breath. She barely kept from reaching out to the television.

"Finally," said a Capitolite woman with long, green braids, like garter snakes. "The Girl on Fire."

A silvery 11 flashed over Katniss' head. The Capitolites broke into a tittered frenzy. No one from Twelve had ever scored so well. Madge swelled with pride, only to swiftly plummet. The score was too good.

* * *

Prim squeezed Gale's hand so hard it went numb. Katniss and her score faded away.

"An 11," said Prim, turning her eyes to Gale. Her face was a beacon of hope. "That's really good, isn't it?"

Gale glanced at Mrs. Everdeen sitting by the dead fire, her bony shoulders hunched inwards, as if she meant to shield her heart with her shoulderblades.

"Yeah, it's good," said Gale, forcing a smile for Prim. Both he and Mrs. Everdeen knew there was little good about it. Katniss outscored every single one of the Careers and they weren't going to be pleased. What had she been thinking? She knew better than to provoke a predator.

He didn't enjoy lying to Prim, something he'd never done before, but he couldn't bring himself to dim her hope.

* * *

The interview crew lingered past midnight. Madge was exhausted from keeping a smile plastered to her face, listening to them exchange bets on their favorites. She couldn't sleep.

"No need to ask who your favorite is," the green haired woman had said to Madge. "Twelve just might have a chance this year."

Madge kicked free of the blanket tangled around her legs. She swung over the side of the bed and pulled loose the moleskine journal she kept under the mattress. She flipped to the page where she'd copied down the scores and ran her finger over the string of moonlit numbers. She traced Katniss 11 over and over again. Did Katniss know she'd put a target on her back?

Probably not, thought Madge, slamming the journal shut. Katniss never thought about consequences. Madge used to find it an admirable quality, now it only made her furious. She screwed her eyes closed. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she thought, beating her fists against the bed. Maybe if she thought the word hard enough, Katniss would hear her in the Capitol.

As her anger trickled out, she rolled onto her side and brought her knees to her chest, to muffle her helpless sobs. Twelve just might have a chance this year, if only Katniss would use her head for once.

* * *

Gale wasn't listening to the teacher. He tapped his pencil against his desk, running the training scores in his head. He hadn't slept, but he was wired, adrenaline pumping. He felt like he was going into the arena tomorrow instead of Katniss.

School would let out early today for the mandatory viewing of the final interviews. He only had to suffer through one more hour, before he could see Katniss, even if just the virtual, Capitol puppet version of her. As much as he hated watching her force a smile, and pretend to be happy, he still craved the sound of her voice.

The door to the classroom creaked and a hush spread across the room. Gale lifted his head from his hand. There was a green-haired woman at the front of the room. Tiny diamonds sparkled in each of her dimples. "I'm looking for Gale Hawthorne," she said, bright and chipper.

Every head in the room turned to him. Thanks a lot, he thought, glaring at his classmates as he stood.

* * *

"Do I look alright?" asked Delly, tugging at the hem of her skirt.

"You look lovely," said Madge. They were sitting side by side on a bench outside of the principal's office, waiting.

"I didn't think they'd want to interview me," said Delly. "Peeta's my friend, but...I don't know. I didn't think." She buried her face in her hands. "I can't do this."

Madge wanted to offer comfort and advice, but didn't have the energy to spare. She had one purpose, to sell Katniss to the Capitol. She could advise Delly to do the same for Peeta, but he sold himself without any trouble. He was an obstacle. For a second, she wondered if she could somehow trick Delly into sabotaging him.

The clip-clip of spiked heels cut the idea short. Madge looked to Twyla, the green haired woman, strutting towards them, with Gale Hawthorne trailing miserably behind.

"Wonderful, you're all here," said Twyla, clapping her hands together. Delly's eyes bulged at the bizarre woman. Madge was unaffected. Twyla was tame compared to many Capitolites she'd met.

"Come along, duckies," chirped Twyla, continuing on down the hall. Madge stood and took a few steps after Gale and the Capitol woman, before she noticed that Delly hadn't moved. Her face was white with terror.

Feeling a twinge of guilt for her earlier thoughts of sabotage, Madge mustered a reassuring smile for the older girl. "It's going to be fine," she said. "You'll be fine."

* * *

Gale had never been in such close proximity to so many people from the Capitol. As soon as he saw the camera set up in the middle of the empty lunch yard, he was hit with that funny, first day of school feeling in the pit of his stomach. He stood slightly apart from Delly, shaking like a leaf, and Madge, cool as a cucumber.

"We're running a sec behind schedule," said Twyla, inspecting them one by one. Her gaze lingered longest on Gale. She licked her blood red lips, like he was something to be devoured. He was relieved when she turned her attention back to the mayor's daughter. "Let's do you first, dear," she said, grabbing Madge's hand. "These two need a little more prep for their big debut."

As the Capitol woman led her to the camera, Madge glanced back. Her eyes locked with Gale's for a moment, just long enough for him to catch a shadow of panic flit across her face.

"I call dibs on the hunky one," a dark-skinned man said, appearing at Gale's side from nowhere and sweeping him over to a canvas-backed chair, next to a wheeled trunk, open and overflowing with colorful paints and brushes.

"They're going to eat you up in the Capitol," the man said, pushing Gale into the chair. He turned to his assistant-a short woman, white as snow, wearing a sheer and shimmery pantsuit. "Just look at his cheekbones. You can't buy those anywhere."

"His hair needs work," said the assistant, sounding bored and unimpressed. Gale didn't give a damn about either of them. He cocked his head to get a glimpse of Madge, primly perched on a crumbling stone bench. Of course she didn't need any prepping. She looked like a porcelain doll already, in her baby blue dress and lacy white socks, her ankles daintily crossed.

"Close your eyes, handsome," the dark skinned man said. "You need a touch of liner to make those eyes really pop." He gave Gale a quick pat on each cheek. His skin soft and powdery. "You have beautiful eyes, like Miss Everdeen's. You're not related, by any chance?"

Gale meant to tell the man that nearly everyone in the Seam had the same gray eyes, the kind you couldn't buy anywhere, but Twyla, now positioned behind the camera, called for silence. "Rolling in…" She held up three fingers, lowering them one at a time as she counted down. "Three. Two. One."

* * *

As Twyla counted down, Madge's nerves peaked in a tidal wave. I can't do this, she thought, beginning to hyperventilate. Lying to her parents and teachers was one thing. Lying to the whole of Panem was entirely different.

But she had to do it. For her friend. One of them needed to be practical. Katniss had the strength and know-how to survive, but she was hopeless at playing games. She was too stubborn, too self-absorbed, too oblivious when it came to image. She was, simply put, who she was. Madge envied her for it.

Twyla reached one and Madge remembered her purpose. She looked straight into the camera lens and flashed Panem her most endearing smile, the one she practiced in the mirror half the night before.

* * *

"So Madge," Twyla began, "How long have you known Katniss?"

"My whole life," said Madge, her voice carrying to Gale across the yard. "I've always admired her, even before we became close."

"And how did you, the mayor's daughter, befriend a girl from the Seam?" asked Twyla.

Gale's ears perked at the question. He often wondered that himself.

"It's not like that here in Twelve," said Madge, swatting her hand dismissively. "Sure, we have our differences, but ultimately, we're all from the same place. Look at Katniss and Peeta at the Opening Ceremony, holding hands. That's what it's like in Twelve. We support each other."

Gale's fists clenched in his lap. What fantasy did Madge Undersee live in? No one from Town had ever done a thing for him, or Katniss, or anyone else in the Seam, except spit on them.

"What started your friendship?" said Twyla.

"I was eating lunch alone. Katniss marched right over and sat down across from me. It happened just over there," said Madge, pointing past Gale. He tried to turn his head for a look, but the snow-white stylist was dragging a comb through his hair, the teeth scraping over his scalp.

"I was shocked," Madge went on. "Katniss Everdeen actually wanted to have lunch with me."

"Is she popular?"

"Everyone here respects her," said Madge, not missing a beat. "She's so strong and generous. My mom got sick that year. Even though we'd never talked before, Katniss reached out to me. She's got a big heart."

Gale let out a derisive snort, which earned him a glare from the snow-white woman, now scrubbing the dirt from under his nails. A big heart? Katniss loved fiercely, but selectively. He didn't know who Madge was describing.

* * *

"Wonderful," gushed Twyla. "One more question and you're done."

Madge braced herself.

"If Katniss was here right now," said Twyla, "what would you say to her."

Madge hadn't rehearsed an answer for anything like this. She stared blankly at the blinking red light on the camera. She forgot that Panem was listening, that she was supposed to be making Katniss appear soft and sweet and likeable. She glanced again to where they used to eat lunch and imagined they were sitting across the table from each other, instead of across the country.

"I would tell her thank you," said Madge. "For being my friend when no one else would. I'd tell her…" She grasped for the right words. There were so many to chose from. She didn't know if Katniss would see this, but if she did, Madge realized this might be her last chance to speak to her friend.

But no, she couldn't think like that. Katniss will come home.

Madge straightened up. "I'd tell her that I believe her," she said firmly.

* * *

"You're up, Hawthorne," Twyla shouted across the yard. Gale shuffled to the camera, glaring at the ground.

"Smile," whispered Madge as they passed each other going in opposite directions. He ignored the advice. He wouldn't pretend to enjoy this, or bask in the glory the way she had. He wanted to be done with it quick.

"Ready?" asked Twyla as soon as he took Madge's vacated seat. Gale jerked his head. He was ready as he'd ever be. While she counted down, his thoughts drifted to Prim, who was being interviewed at home. He wished he was there with her. Imagining a pack of Capitol stylists poking and prodding at her the way they had him was almost too much to bear. They had no right to touch a hair on her head.

"How long have you known Katniss?" asked Twyla.

"Awhile," said Gale.

"Be specific, please."

"Few years," he said. Twyla's blood red lips curled down into a frown. He took some small satisfaction in denying her what she wanted. The Capitol could take Katniss and dress her up, Madge could put on a show and smile, but he wouldn't play this game.

"Your fathers died in the same mining accident," said Twyla. It wasn't a question. The blood drained from Gale's face.

* * *

For a second, Madge feared he would leap to his feet and charge Twyla. She'd never seen him look so angry, which was saying something, since he always looked angry. Don't do anything stupid, she begged silently.

Finally, Gale forced out a single word, "Yeah." Madge breathed a sigh of relief.

"Was that what brought you together?" asked Twyla.

Gale shrugged. He refused to look at the camera. Madge wanted to strangle him. Twyla was handing him everything he needed to have the Capitolites fawning all over Katniss. They craved tragedy to spice up their own contented lives.

Twyla seemed to realize it was a lost cause to pry anything else out of him. "Last question," she said briskly. "We were all stunned by Katniss' training score. How do you think she got that 11?"

* * *

Gale knew how she made the 11, but couldn't think of a way to answer without incriminating her, as well as himself. Common sense dictated that he not broadcast nationwide their illegal hunting trips. He was devilishly tempted to do just that. Let them know who the real Katniss was.

He couldn't, though. There was Prim to consider. If he was arrested, she'd starve, along with everyone else he loved. He remembered his final promise to Katniss. Grudgingly, he took Madge Undersee's advice and forced a smile.

"That's easy," he said. "She got that 11 by being the best."

* * *

Gale's smile was more of a grimace, but his answer was adequate. At least he sort of tried. Madge was still furious at him for acting just like Katniss. Impulsive, impractical, imbeciles. Delly took the bench next. Madge didn't want to stick around and listen to her talk about Peeta. It was best not to know the enemy. No one was paying her any attention now, so she assumed she was free to leave, and fled the yard.

There were a thousand things to do before the final interviews. The interview crew would be joining them again. Madge was in charge of preparations and dosing her mother with enough morphling to keep her from coming downstairs and causing a scene. She wished she could pause her life for a moment, but it kept rushing around her, making demands, giving nothing.

Just as she was turning onto her street, someone grabbed her arm and spun her roughly around. She craned her neck to look at Gale, towering over her. His fingers bit into the soft underside of her elbow. His gray eyes dark with danger.

"What the hell was that, Undersee?" he hissed.

"What was what?" she said, stunned by the hatred rolling off of him.

* * *

"All that crap you said about Katniss," said Gale. "You made her out like a…"

He was too angry to speak clearly. It was bad enough that the Capitol was turning Katniss into someone she wasn't. There was nothing he could do to stop them, but he'd be damned if he let Madge go around telling lies about his best friend.

"You don't know her," he said. "So stop acting like you do, just so you can get your five minutes of fame."

* * *

Before she realized what she was doing, Madge slapped him. He immediately dropped her arm. Neither of them spoke or moved for what felt like hours. She watched the red imprint of her hand bloom across his cheek.

Madge had never hit anyone before. She wished she had sooner. Though her hand stung, it had felt good to slap him.

* * *

Gale's arms trembled at his side. It took every ounce of his self control not to retaliate. Instead, he tried to come up with words as painful as a physical blow. She beat him to it.

"I made her likable," said Madge, low and sharp. "Which is more than you did. Don't you get it? Everything we do and say reflects back on her. I said those things, so that when she's in the arena, if she's starving, or freezing, or...or dying, then maybe some sponsor will take pity on her. That's the only thing we can do to help her. Acting like a jerk isn't going to compel anyone to save her life."

It was the most he'd ever heard her speak in one go. He was still processing, when she spun on her heels and marched away. Gale watched her go until she slammed the front door behind her. In the silence left behind, shame engulfed him. He should never have grabbed her.


	4. Bloodbath

"My chest was quickly pounding still. The angel of death at his kill."

Udiah

"Madge darling, sit with me," said Twyla, patting the open space beside her on the settee. Madge looked longingly to her usual chair directly in front of the wall-mounted television. She turned up the volume all the way, before joining Twyla on the other side of the guest parlor. The Capitolites were loud and she didn't want to miss a word of the interviews.

It was difficult to concentrate and host at the same time. Caesar Flickerman finished with the Careers, at which point the Capitolites lost interest. Even with surround sound blasting, Madge had to strain her ears to hear what the fox-faced girl from Five was saying. She made mental notes about each tribute to jot down in her journal later.

"You were absolutely wonderful today," said Twyla. Reluctantly, Madge tore her eyes from the screen.

"Thank you," she said with a shy smile. "I was so nervous."

The smile Twyla returned to her was sticky with sympathy. She leaned in close to Madge and spoke so only the two of them could hear. "This must be so hard for you, having your best friend so very far away." She rested her cool palm against Madge's forearm.

I don't want your pity, thought Madge, going stiff at the touch. I want you to shut up.

"I can't imagine how worried you must be," said Twyla.

"I'm not," said Madge, trying to convince them both.

* * *

On stage, Katniss twirled around and around and around. The hem of her gown fanned out like fire.

"She's so pretty," said Prim.

"Yeah," said Gale. He wasn't picturing Katniss as she was now, though, made-up and unrecognizable. He imagined her as she'd been on Reaping Day, her hair in a simple braid that his fingers had itched to play with the end of. He was glad when she finally sat down again. All of that spinning made him sick.

"We were all very moved, I think, when you volunteered for your sister at the Reaping," said Flickerman. "Did she come say goodbye to you?"

Prim shifted closer to Gale. He took both of her small hands in one of his.

"Yes, she did," said Katniss. The flush in her cheeks left over from the twirling faded fast.

"And what did you say to her in the end?" asked Flickerman.

There was a pause, only a few seconds long. In the pause, the real Katniss surfaced. Gale bent towards the television, drawn to the pain in her eyes, hating that he wasn't there to comfort her.

"I told her that I would try to win," said Katniss. "That I would try to win for her."

"Of course you did," said Flickerman kindly. "And try you will."

Mrs. Everdeen rose from her chair and slipped from the room, leaving him alone with Prim. Not try, thought Gale. You'll win. You have to. He wasn't thinking of Prim right then. He wanted Katniss to come home for his sake, so he could play with the end of her braid, hold her hand, spend the rest of his life with her.

Because without Katniss, there was no future for him.

* * *

The Capitolites went quiet for the Girl on Fire's interview. As Katniss left the stage, Madge wiped away the tear escaping down her cheek, before any of her guests saw. She felt so lost, so hopelessly alone. There was only so much she could do for Katniss from a thousand miles away. It wasn't enough. The distance between them had never felt greater.

When she looked back to the television, Peeta was halfway through his interview. He was at ease, every move he made genuine to a fault. He was as opposite Katniss in demeanor as appearance. It seemed that he and Flickerman had known each other a lifetime, rather than a mere ten minutes.

"So Peeta, tell me, is there a special girl back home?" asked Flickerman.

"No, no. Not really," said Peeta, breaking eye contact for the first time since the interview began.

"I don't believe it for a second," said Flickerman.

"Neither do I," giggled Twyla. She cast a sly glance at Madge. "Do you know him too, dear?"

Madge shook her head.

"Well, there, uh, there is this one girl that I've had a crush on for forever," said Peeta. Despite herself, Madge was curious. Was it Delly? She hoped not, for Delly's sake. "But I don't think she actually recognized me until the Reaping," Peeta went on. It wasn't Delly, then.

"I'll tell you what, Peeta," said Flickerman. "You go out there and win this thing, and when you get home, she'll have to go out with you. Right folks?"

The audience roared their approval. Peeta waited for them to settle with a patient smile. Suddenly, Madge couldn't look at him. Whoever he had a crush on, it didn't matter. He was going to die. He had to.

"Thanks," said Peeta, as if he truly meant it. "But I don't think winning is going to help me at all."

"And why not?" said Flickerman.

"Because she came here with me."

Madge's head snapped up. Her jaw dropped.

"Oh no!" cried Twyla, clasping her hands over her heart. She sounded genuinely stricken by Peeta's confession. The other Capitolites all looked horrified and heartbroken. Madge only had eyes for Peeta Mellark, though. She saw him as she never had before. He wasn't a victim. He wasn't the enemy. He was an ally.

Madge wasn't there to play the game for Katniss, but there was someone with her who knew exactly how to put all the odds in her favor.

* * *

It was only mid-morning and Gale was already sweating through his shirt. The sun rose in his eyes. He had to squint to see the stage, where the Mellarks and Everdeens sat. He hadn't been honored with an invitation to sit with them. Though he wanted to be up there for Prim's sake, it was a relief to be just another face in the crowd, to be with his family. His mother stood close to him, their arms pressed together, and he leaned into her just a little. Vick and Rory were on his other side. Posy was too young for the Bloodbath. Gale envied her.

All night he'd agonized over Peeta Mellark's nationwide declaration of love. He went back and forth from rage, to regret, to bewilderment, then back to rage. Over and over and over again. Come morning, he set it all aside. Peeta wasn't likely to survive the Bloodbath. There was no point in wasting energy being jealous of a boy about to die.

Mayor Undersee took to the podium and recited the Treaty of Peace. Gale listened hard, hoping the words would fuel his anger as they usually did. It was his hatred of the Capitol that had kept him standing since his father's death. This time, though, it wasn't quite enough.

Mayor Undersee took his seat next to Madge and the black screen behind them filled with color. The camera panned over a canopy of green treetops, giving them their first glimpse into the arena. Gale felt fear as he'd never known before.

* * *

There wasn't much of the arena to be seen through the dense treetops. Soon the forest opened up to a large clearing with twenty-four empty platforms ringing the edge and a gleaming, metal cornucopia in the dead center.

"Your tributes for the 74th Annual Hunger Games," announced Claudius Templesmith as the platforms slid open and the tributes rose from the ground. Madge held her breath, scanning faces for Katniss, hoping not to find her, hoping this was all a dream and Katniss was safe at home.

But then the camera circled to Katniss, paused for a second, and moved on to the little girl from Eleven, then the curly haired boy from Four. Claudius Templesmith was counting down. TEN. NINE. EIGHT. The boy from Six nearly fell off of his platform, regaining his balance at the last second. SEVEN. SIX. A sheen of sweat broke out across the girl from Eleven's smooth, dark brow. FIVE. FOUR. The Careers prepared to run. Three. There was Katniss again, her eyes fixed on the cornucopia. TWO. Across the clearing, Peeta shook his head in silent warning.

ONE!

Katniss leapt from the platform and sprinted for the cornucopia. Madge bit through her lip to keep from crying out aloud. In her head, she was screaming NO! Get out, just get out! Then Katniss was gone. The camera zoomed to Peeta darting under the cover of the woods, then to the girl from Nine being strangled by the boy from Three, to both tributes from Eight sprawled together, their blood soaking the grass, their eyes wide open and empty.

Image after image flashed across the screen. Screams tore through the speakers. Madge forgot to look for Katniss. There was too much she didn't want to see. The red of blood so vibrant against the grass, she could almost smell it, taste it. Her certainty took flight. How could Katniss possibly survive this. How could anyone?

The girl from Three, her leg cut clean off below the knee, tried to crawl away from the sickle-wielding boy from Five. When the boy from Eleven slashed open the boy from Seven's throat, blood splattered the camera lens. Then there was Katniss, on the ground, scrambling backwards from the boy from Nine, approaching with an axe raised above his head.

* * *

On stage, Prim hid her face in her hands. Gale longed to do the same, but he had to watch. It happened so fast. Mid-swing, the boy from Nine fell to his knees, a knife buried hilt-deep in his spine. Before his body hit the ground, Katniss was on her feet and running from the dark-haired girl from Two.

* * *

Madge saw the knife leave Clove's hand, saw it fly straight for the back of Katniss' head. Without thinking, she sprung to her feet, as if she could shield her friend. She didn't hear her father call out her name. Blood pounded in her ears, her heart thundered in her chest. The stage rolled under her feet. Too late, she realized she was still holding her breath.

* * *

Katniss lifted the orange backpack to cover herself just in time. "Thanks for the knife," she called over her shoulder, running hard for the treeline. Come on, come on, thought Gale. If she made it out of the clearing…

"What's she doing?" asked Rory.

"Getting the hell out of there," said Gale. That much was obvious.

"Not Katniss," said Rory. "Her."

The camera left Katniss just as she neared the forest. Gale didn't care about any of the other tributes, so he stole a quick glance at his brother and found him looking not at the screen, but at the stage below. He followed Rory's gaze to Madge Undersee, just before she fainted.

* * *

Madge woke in her own bed with a head full of fog. Snippets of the Bloodbath resurfaced and her stomach clenched like she was falling, like she was going to be sick. She rolled onto her side. Someone had left a bucket by the bed. Her vomit struck the plastic bottom with a watery splat. When she heard the door open, she didn't bother to move, leaving her throbbing head hanging limp over the bucket.

"Madgie?" Her father's gentle whisper reverberated against her skull like canon boom. She winced as he lifted her sore head back onto the pillow. His face loomed over her, his glasses glinting in the dim lamplight. Then her vision was drawn inward, to the Bloodbath. To Katniss scrambling backwards from a falling axe. To a knife cutting through the air.

"Katniss," she muttered, the name breaking through the fog. She honed in on her father's tired face, searching it for answers.

"She's fine," he said. Madge didn't feel relief, only nausea. Her father held back her hair as she heaved into the bucket again. By the time she finished, she was crying so hard she could barely breathe. Tears of joy, disbelief, and pain. Her father held her close for a minute, rocking her like a child. His effort to sooth her only made the tears fall faster. She couldn't remember the last time he'd held her like this. When he pulled away, too soon, she curled her fingers in his silk vest.

"You hit your head pretty hard," he said, wiping flecks of vomit from her chin with his handkerchief. "The medic says you most likely have a concussion."

Madge couldn't grasp what he was saying. She saw his lips move, but it was like she was underwater, everything blurred and muffled. She whimpered in protest when he uncurled her fingers from his vest and tucked her arms under the blanket.

"You need rest," he said.

"But Katniss-"

"I'll wake you if anything happens," he promised. "She's safe for now."

For now, Madge thought, her heavy eyelids drooping. She didn't want to close them, afraid of sleeping, of dreaming, of never waking, like all those children slaughtered in the Bloodbath. This year, it was all so much more real than ever before. She felt the weight of each snuffed out life.

"Stay with me, please," she said, trying to catch her father's hand, but her arms were like led, too heavy to lift.

"The interview crew leaves in the morning. I need to make sure everything's ready for them," said Mayor Undersee. He pressed a quick kiss to her brow. "If you need anything, the maid's just outside."

Then he was gone. Just like that. Just like everyone.

* * *

Prim was unusually silent on the walk home from school. Gale took short steps to match her pace. Up ahead, Rory and Vick were arguing about something. They were always bickering. For once, wrapped up in memories of yesterday's Bloodbath, Gale didn't intervene. They could hash it out for themselves this time.

Every couple of minutes, he glanced at Prim. There was a faint crease between her pale eyebrows. "What are you thinking about so hard?" he finally asked.

"Nothing," she said.

"You can tell me," he pressed her. "You can tell me anything."

The crease between her brows deepened. She kept her eyes fixed on Rory and Vick.

"If it's about Katniss, she's alri-"

"Do you think he really loves her?" blurted Prim. Gale froze, momentarily stunned.

"Who?" he asked, though he already knew.

"Peeta," said Prim. "Do you think he meant what he said in his interview?"

"I don't know," muttered Gale. Peeta survived the Bloodbath. He'd fled to the woods, like a coward, abandoning Katniss. Something Gale never would have done. They were close to the Everdeen's house. Rory and Vick turned in the opposite direction.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," continued Gale. "The arena's no place for romance."

"I know," said Prim, raising her clear blue eyes to his. "It's just, if he really does love her, he'll protect her, right?"

"Yeah," said Gale, ruffling her hair. "If he loves her, he will." But Peeta didn't love Katniss. Not really. If he did, he wouldn't have left her. "But Katniss can protect herself," he added firmly.

"I know," repeated Prim. "I'd feel better, though, if she had someone with her. I worry…" She trailed off, her lips pursed, her hands bunched in the folds of her skirt.

"Go on," said Gale.

"It's stupid."

"Nothing you say is stupid."

Prim filled her cheeks with air and blew it out in one breath. "I think she needs a friend. I'm worried if she doesn't have one, she'll forget who she is. The arena changes people. Mom says Haymitch Abernathy used to smile all the time."

Gale stopped walking again. He crouched to eye level with Prim and rested both hands on her shoulders. "She won't change," he said. "Listen to me, Prim. Katniss is coming home and everything will go back to the way it was."

Prim's frown remained. She shook off his hands. "No," she said. "It won't be the same."

Before he could respond, she hurried on. Gale rose from his crouch. He wanted to tell Prim that she was wrong, but couldn't, because she wasn't. She was braver than him. She accepted the truth, whereas he fled from it.

Gale caught up to her. Neither of them spoke again. He didn't want to think about how the Games would change Katniss.

Mrs. Everdeen was waiting for them on the porch. "How was school?" she asked.

"Fine," muttered Prim, brushing past her and disappearing into the house. Gale expected Mrs. Everdeen to follow her, but she lingered, letting out a heavy sigh and leaning against the doorframe.

"Thank you for walking her home," she said.

Gale scraped the toe of his boot over the hard-packed earth. "No problem," he said, uncomfortable with the clarity in her eyes and voice. It wasn't something he was used to from her. "I should get home," he said after another minute.

"Wait," said Mrs. Everdeen, drawing a brown paper package from her apron. She held it tightly between her hands and her eyes travelled to a far away place. He wondered what she was thinking. Suddenly, her eyes snapped back to him.

"Could you take this Madge Undersee?" she asked, holding out the package. "I'd go myself, but…" But she hadn't been to Town in years. "It's a tea blend," she said quickly. "To help her sleep."

Gale didn't reach for the package. His first instinct was to refuse. No way was he going to walk all of the way back into Town, just so Madge Undersee could get a good night's rest. Then he remembered the look on her face right before she'd fainted yesterday. He remembered her nightmares of being mauled by giant dogs.

"Yeah, alright," he said, taking the package and shoving it into his pocket.

"Tell her…" Mrs. Everdeen trailed off again. Her struggle to find the right words was apparent in the tense creases around her mouth. "Tell her thanks for giving Katniss the mockingjay pin. I know what it means." She retreated into the house faster than Gale had ever seen her move, not giving him the chance to ask what he wanted.

What does it mean?

* * *

Madge stood at the top of the staircase, looking down at the insurmountable challenge before her. She weighed her options- go back to bed and wait for the maid to return from shopping or risk breaking her neck for a glass of water? She was so thirsty, her mouth dry as sandpaper. Leaning against the wall for support, she began her slow descent, putting both feet on each step before moving to the next. By the time she reached the bottom, she was gasping for air, and had to sit on the last step , cradling her head until the pain ebbed.

Conquered by a flight of stairs, she thought miserably. Katniss escapes the Bloodbath unscathed and I get a concussion just watching. Madge was frustrated by her own fragility. At the very least, she would get her own glass of water. Grinding her teeth, she pressed on into the kitchen. As soon as she crossed the threshold, someone banged on the back door. Each knock sent a stab of pain through her tender skull.

She scurried across the kitchen and threw open the door, so eager to stop the knocking, she forgot she wasn't dressed.

* * *

Gale's fist hung in the air mid-knock. He hadn't expected Madge to answer the door. He certainly hadn't expected her to be wearing a flimsy, white nightgown. His eyes travelled over her hair, tangled and tousled, to the strap of the nightgown sliding over her shoulder, to the curve of her hips, just visible under the wispy fabric. The hem of her nightgown stopped mid-thigh. He'd never seen her anything that didn't cover her knees.

"What do you want?" she snapped. Gale brought his eyes to her face, hoping she hadn't noticed their momentary wandering. She crossed her arms over her chest, a red flush creeping up from the neckline of the nightgown to the roots of her hair.

"Mrs. Everdeen wanted me to give you this," he said, thrusting the brown paper package at her. "It's to put in your tea, to help you sleep, or whatever."

"Oh," said Madge, holding the package like she thought it might bite her. "I don't have any money on me, but I can-"

"She doesn't want your money," said Gale.

"Well, I should pay you, at least. For the delivery."

"I don't want your money, either, Undersee."

* * *

They fell silent. Madge was too aware of her indecent dress, of the way Gale Hawthorne's eyes kept flickering downward. She hugged her chest tighter, waiting for him to leave. He didn't want her money, so what did he want?

Just as she opened her mouth to say thanks, well, goodbye, he finally spoke, "She says thanks for giving Katniss that pin. That she knows what it means."

Madge gripped the little package. The paper crinkled under her fingertips. She hadn't considered that Mrs. Everdeen might recognize the mockingjay pin after all these years.

"So, what does it mean?" asked Gale.

"Nothing," said Madge, too quickly. Her head hurt too much to lie convincingly. Gale narrowed his eyes, so she added, "It really is nothing."

"But-"

"But nothing!" She held onto the doorframe as another dizzy spell hit. She couldn't have this conversation, not now.

* * *

Madge closed her eyes and he thought she might faint again. He reached out to steady her, just in case, but then her eyelids flew open, and his hand dropped. She tucked her hair behind her ears and he caught a glimpse of the deep blue bruise blooming across her temple.

"How's your head?" he asked.

"Fine," she said, beginning to retreat. "Thanks for bringing…" She held up the package. Gale threw his hand against the door to keep her from closing it on him. He needed to know about the pin. What did it mean?

"Just let it go," said Madge. Her desperate, pleading voice made him uncomfortable. "You've got your secrets. I've got mine. Fair enough?"

"Nothing's fair," he said, but he let go of the door and took a step back. "See you around, Undersee." He meant to find out what she was hiding. Not now, but soon.

* * *

Madge didn't close the door until he disappeared around the corner. Her thirst forgotten, she returned to her room, where she meant to stay for the rest of her life. A second after she crawled into bed, she heard her mother's bell, but she ignored it. You can wait for the maid, she thought, knowing already she'd regret this moment of vindictiveness.

Gale Hawthorne was right. Nothing was fair.


	5. Calm of the Meadow

"Everyone says nature is just nature, something that simply stares, something that might leave us one day."

Karen Gonzalez Videla

Undersee's lunch period was after Gale's, so he stayed in the yard when the bell rang, waiting for the mayor's daughter at her table. He searched for her blonde hair amidst the mob. Nearly everyone had taken their seat, but still no sign of Madge.

Gale didn't quite understand why he cared about the mockingjay pin. How important could a trinket be? There was so much he already didn't know, so much he had no control over. He needed a purpose to remind himself that he wasn't useless, even if he couldn't save Katniss. He needed the truth.

Who was the mayor's daughter? To him, she'd always been a symbol of injustice, the embodiment of everything wrong with the world. She was cold, distant, intangible, but something changed on Reaping Day when she touched his arm. He remembered clearly the warmth of her hand, the shock of realizing that the mayor's daughter was flesh and blood, that she cried, and dreamt, and had secrets.

She was a mystery. He was sick of mysteries, sick of being unsure of tomorrow, unsure of how Katniss felt about him, unsure of himself, and now, unsure of Madge Undersee.

* * *

Madge didn't want to be at school, but worried she'd go crazy if she spent another day in bed, watching the Games. Her eyes ached from the constant flicker of the T.V. in an otherwise dark room. Nothing was happening in the arena. No one else had died. Claudius Templesmith checked in on Katniss every couple of hours. She was still searching for water. Madge felt her thirst from a thousand miles away. She couldn't drink anything. Each sip filled her stomach with guilt.

She'd hoped returning to school would provide distraction. If anything, Madge only felt worse. Now she had to smile, pretend, while her classmates whispered behind her back. Most of them pitied her. Some, a group of Seam girls, believed her fainting spell during the Bloodbath was a show for the Capitol. They believed, as Gale put it, that she was after her five minutes of fame.

Madge tried to ignore them. She stood alone by the door leading out into the yard, gazing over her classmates, sitting in close-knit clumps, closing her out. No one looked directly at her. She might as well not exist. Whether they hated or pitied her, none of them wanted to be reminded of all she represented. Maybe I am a ghost, she thought, Maybe I am dead Aunt Maysilee.

Then she saw Gale sitting in Katniss' place. Her chest tightened when their eyes locked. It seemed he was the only person in the yard who could see her, disproving her ghost theory. Being invisible, being dead, was preferable to being noticed by him.

* * *

Madge Undersee looked like a deer caught in the beam of a flashlight, so Gale treated the situation as any hunter would. No sudden movements. He stared her down, waiting for her to come to him, or bolt. If she ran, he wouldn't give chase. Why bother? He knew where to find her.

* * *

Retreat, thought Madge. Go inside. Eat lunch in the bathroom. Just get out of here.

Then she thought of Katniss wandering for water, fighting to survive. Madge was tired of being a coward. She wasn't dead. She was very much alive and felt the pain of it every second of every day and night. Losing Katniss was the final straw.

And that stupid lunch table was their place. The only place in the world where she felt close to her friend. Madge wasn't about to let Gale Hawthorne take that away from her.

* * *

Madge marched across the yard, her narrowed eyes never leaving his. Gale was mildly surprised. He'd expected her to run, but she kept going against his assumptions. It was infuriating. She was an itch he couldn't scratch. Not that he should try. Scratching only made it worse.

When she reached him, she threw her lunch down onto the table, but didn't sit. "Leave," she said, glaring down her nose at him. Gale folded his arms on the table, settling in.

"This isn't even your lunch period," said Madge.

"So?" he said with a shrug.

"So," she hissed, nostrils flaring. "You're going to get me into trouble."

Gale rolled his eyes. The teachers didn't care what either of them did. It was the same every year. Friends and families of the tributes could do just about whatever they pleased during the Games. That didn't mean people were above gawking at them in the middle of a loud, public dispute.

"Sit down, Undersee," he said.

"Not until you leave."

* * *

Gale's lips curled into a smirk, the closest thing to a smile she'd ever received from him. "Fine," he said. "Eat standing up."

Madge felt the eyes of her classmates burning into her back. She was the opposite of invisible now. If she slapped him, as she wanted to, all of Twelve would know within a week. Life was hard enough for her father without rumors of a daughter gone wild.

"I won't bite," said Gale.

Madge snorted. Considering his temper, she wouldn't put it past him to bite. After a minute, though, she sat across from him. They continued to stare one another down. His gaze was at once guarded and probing. She knew what he was looking for.

* * *

"What do you want?" said Madge, lowering her eyes to the table. Her hair fell over her shoulder, casting half her face in shadow.

"Why did you lie about the pin?" he asked, losing patience and closing the trap too soon. Madge flinched. She surprised him again by not denying that she'd lied.

"Because it's none of your business," she said. "I don't want to talk about it. Especially not with you."

Gale bristled. "What's the supposed to mean, Undersee?"

"It means that I don't know you. We're not friends. You barely tolerate me." She leaned over the table, leaping from cold to hot so fast it left his head spinning. Her blue eyes burned like the summer sky in a drought. "Why do I owe you the truth? You've never given me a reason to trust you with it."

This time, he was the one to lower his eyes to the table.

* * *

A second after Gale ducked his head, she did the same. She focused on working loose a splinter from the table. Their conversations were always full of stalemates and stagnant pauses. They spoke a different language. With Katniss, there wasn't much talking. They communicated more through movement, body language, facial expression, intuition.

Madge stole a glance at Gale. His body was just as indecipherable as his words. Every line of him sharp and stern, carved from stone. As if he felt her inspection, he looked up.

"You're right," he said.

Madge didn't trust her ears. "What?"

"You are right," he repeated, enunciating each syllable. "You don't owe me anything."

Madge saw his lips form the words, yet still didn't believe them. Gale Hawthorne was actually admitting that he was wrong and she was right.

"Okay," she finally managed to say.

* * *

Gale was already struggling not to laugh at the dumbfounded look on her face, but when all she had to say was, "Okay," he lost control. Her expression returned to pinched and indignant, which only made him laugh harder. He was shocked by his own reaction.

It wasn't until Madge stood, that he got a hold of himself. "Wait," he said, breathless. She waited, hands on her hips, ice queen glare in place.

"Well?" she said.

"I want to show you something."

"Why? So you can laugh at me some more."

"I wasn't laughing at you," said Gale.

"You weren't laughing with me," spat Madge. "I haven't found this conversation very funny."

Gale heaved a sigh. Maybe he had been laughing at her, just a little. For the most part, he'd been laughing at the absurdities that kept bringing them together, but he wasn't about to try explaining himself to the mayor's daughter. He was left with two courses of action: let her walk away or…

"Look, I'm sorry," he said. "So will you come with me? I promise, you'll like it."

* * *

Madge agreed to go, not because she forgave him, but because it was a better alternative to finishing the school day or watching Katniss suffer onscreen. No one stopped her and Gale from slipping out of the yard. No one wanted to watch them suffer.

Madge kept a careful foot of space apart from Gale. She couldn't deny her curiosity. It was, always had been, her fatal flaw. When she first learned to speak, she was constantly in trouble for asking questions she wasn't supposed to. Soon she discovered eavesdropping was more effective. But when she realized that Gale was leading her to the Seam, she remembered something her father used to say. Curiosity killed the cat, Madgie.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"You'll see when we get there."

Madge stopped. "I need more than that."

The corners of Gale's lips twitched, whether from amusement of frustration, she couldn't tell. "Relax, Undersee," he said. "I'm not gone to kill you and dump your body in the woods."

"Thought about that often?" she snapped. She wasn't afraid of him or anyone else from the Seam. There were boundaries, though, and consequences. It was a truth branded into her at birth. The only other time she crossed the line between Town and Seam, she'd been chased by a rabid dog. Talk about consequences…

"Just trust me," said Gale.

That was asking an awfully lot of her. Or was it? After all, she did trust that he didn't plan to murder her. She even trusted that, should a pack of wild dogs attack them, he wouldn't leave her behind as distraction for his getaway. What else was there to worry about?

"Alright," she said. "Let's go."

* * *

Gale stopped at the meadow's edge. "Well, this is it," he said. He regretted promising that the meadow was something she'd like. She probably had all sorts of pretty things in her big, pretty house. This sad, scruffy field wasn't likely to impress her.

He waited for her to speak, reluctant to look at her, as he didn't want to see her condescending expression. In the lengthening silence, his embarrassment grew, until he couldn't take it anymore. Finally, he looked at her. Madge Undersee's whole face was glowing with awe.

* * *

"It's beautiful," said Madge. This was as close to the fence as she'd ever been. This was the very edge of the known world. Her heart pumped fear and hungry wonder as she crossed into the knee-tall grass. She trailed her hands over the tops of the stalks, letting them tickle her palms. Purple and yellow wildflowers dotted the green.

It was so simple, so still, so beautiful. The air sharp with the tang of pine trees. The tall grass blown like waves by the summer breeze. She walked deeper and deeper into the meadow. She forgot the Games, and her mother, and the unbearable weight of being the mayor's daughter.

She even forgot herself.

* * *

Gale was content to watch her explore the meadow, touching and smelling everything like a child. He rested his chin on his knees, only his eyes moving to follow her. He didn't mind that she seemed to have forgotten him. It gave him time to think. That's what the meadow was for. Silent contemplation. Not chasing butterflies, he thought, watching Madge do just that.

The butterfly touched down on the purple petal of a blooming larkspur. "Don't," said Gale when she moved to close her hands around the winged insect. At the sound of his voice, the butterfly took flight and Madge leapt around, startled.

"Why not?" she asked.

"You touch their wings, they can't fly anymore. They'll die."

Her cheeks pinked with guilt. "I thought that was a myth."

"Nope," said Gale. He wished he hadn't spoken. Now that she remembered him, she raised her guard, aging a decade in ten seconds. It was easier to like her when she was chasing butterflies, instead of glaring at him like a coal smudge on her white shoes.

"I'm not going to tell you about the pin," she said. "So if that was your reason for bringing me-"

"Stop being so paranoid," he said.

"Then why'd you bring me here?" she demanded, reminding him a little of Katniss. Stubborn, mistrusting, zero tolerance for secret motives. Suddenly, he knew exactly why he'd brought her to the meadow.

"This is one of Katniss' favorite places," he said, gazing out across the grass, to the fence, and the forest beyond. "She likes to come here for the sunrise. Says it's the only place in Twelve where she feels at peace."

Madge's expression softened as he spoke, making it even harder to look at her. "I still don't understand why-" she began.

"It's obvious you care about," said Gale. He ripped up a fistful of grass and threw it back to the ground. Accepting that the mayor's daughter genuinely cared about a nobody from the Seam wasn't easy. He wanted to believe the rumors that she'd fainted during the Bloodbath for the attention. He wanted to believe she was just another Townie, leaching sympathy from people who actually deserved it. But right before she'd passed out, he saw his own helpless terror reflected in her wide, blue eyes.

"I don't really understand," he continued. "You and Katniss, that is."

"There's nothing to understand," said Madge. "We'r friends. It's simple."

Nothing was simple. Especially not relationships between Town and Seam. After another awkward minute, she sighed. The grass rustled when she sat down beside him.

"Thanks for showing me this place," she said

"Yeah, well, don't get the wrong idea," said Gale. "I don't like you anymore than I did yesterday."

To his surprise, she gave a tired chuckle. "Good," she said. "I don't like you, either."


	6. Poetry and Prejudice

**AN:** Dear readers, I'm spoiling you with two updates in two days. Don't get used to it, haha. This chapter grew outside of my control, so the next one will pick up pretty close to where this leaves off.

Major thanks to Gale Lover and Ex2See! Your reviews inspired this freakishly rapid update, so I hope it doesn't disappoint.

* * *

"Anger lessens but can never leave, anger you hope to never receive."

Jacob Hill

"The bread's burning," said Rory, sprawled across the couch, his long legs draped over the armrest.

"Then take it out," snapped Gale. His hands were full with the roasted squirrel carcass he was trying to slide from the spit. The smell of burnt bread wafted to him. Rory didn't move an inch and Gale was tempted to spear him through with the red hot spit.

"Would you get off your ass for one minute?" he said, glaring over his shoulder at his brother.

"I'm studying," said Rory, staring vacantly at the patched ceiling. His textbook, which he had yet to open, lay on his chest.

Gale slammed the spit onto the table. He marched across the room, slapping Rory across the back of the head as he passed by, and dropped to his knees at the hearth. In his haste and frustration, he grabbed the bread pan bare-handed. The iron seared his palm. Hissing, he jerked back his hand, knocking the pan from the fire as he did.

"Smooth," said Rory, eyeing the charred black slices of bread smoking on the coal-dusted floor. Gale cradled his burnt fingers to his chest and used his other hand to crush the nearest piece of bread in his fist, before he flung it at his brother.

"There's your supper," he said, standing up. "Enjoy."

"I'm not eating this," said Rory.

"You will," said Gale, towering over him, intending to shove every last burnt crumb down his throat. "We're not wasting it."

"You can't make me."

"Fine," said Gale, throwing his hands into the air. "Just fine. Go hungry. I don't care." He spun around and stormed out of the house, before he did something he'd seriously regret.

* * *

Madge blew on her tea every few minutes, even though it had gone cold hours ago. Katniss had just barely escaped a ruthless firebombing, courtesy of the Gamemakers, but she hadn't escaped unscathed. She was now perched high in the boughs of a tree, nursing her burns while the Careers circled below. It was nighttime in the arena, but Madge could see every pained line on Katniss' face. She saw clearly the raw, angry welt on Katniss' calf.

"You should go to bed," her father said. Madge hadn't heard him come in. She turned her head to find him standing behind her with his hands resting on the back of her chair.

"I'm not tired," she said.

Her father looked at the T.V. screen, where Clove held out her open palms to catch the warmth of the fire. Meanwhile Katniss, friendless and alone, shivered in the cold above.

"Nothing more will happen tonight," her father said.

"Anything could happen," argued Madge.

He sighed, easily defeated. "I'll be in my office, if you need me," he said. Madge listened to his retreating footsteps and debated going after him. I do need you, she thought, tears blurring her vision of Katniss, who was biting her lip to keep from crying out in pain as she applied medicine to her burns.

Madge didn't follow her father. She couldn't leave Katniss now. What she really needed was for her father to stay and watch with her, in case anything did happen, but he hadn't watched the Games in years. He couldn't stomach them.

* * *

Gale ate supper with the Everdeens. Even though he'd caught the squirrel, he felt guilty for eating any of it himself, but Mrs. Everdeen insisted. Her own plate went untouched. His stomach clenched at the sight of Peeta, sitting warm and comfortable by the Careers' fire. He wanted to wring the baker boy's neck for leading them to Katniss, for saying, She'll have to come down sometime.

But Katniss was smarter than Peeta and the Careers. Unnoticed by them, she was sawing through a thick tree branch, from the end of which hung a tracker jacker nest that the girl from Eleven had pointed out to her. The only knife she had wasn't made for cutting through wood, but she kept at it, her lips pressed into a thin, white line of determination. It was an expression Gale knew well.

When the screen went black, she was only halfway through the branch. Static buzz filled the room until Mrs. Everdeen turned off the T.V. Prim had fallen asleep nearly an hour ago. Her head in Gale's lap. He didn't want to move and risk waking her. She looked so peaceful.

"It's late," whispered Mrs. Everdeen. "Your mother will be worried about you."

She was right, but Gale didn't want to go home yet. His anger at Rory still simmered. How could that boy just let the bread burn? He knew how hard Gale worked to keep the family fed, and now, to top it off, he had to provide for the Everdeens too. Katniss had been gone for just over two weeks. Already the strain was becoming too much.

He slipped out from under Prim. "Should I take her to bed?" he asked.

"No," said Mrs. Everdeen. She brushed Prim's hair from her face, the simple gesture heavy with love and heartbreak. "Let her sleep."

"I'll be back tomorrow with more game," said Gale.

"You've brought us enough. Don't worry-"

"I'll be back tomorrow," he cut her off. Before she could protest any further, he left.

The Everdeens didn't live far from the Hawthornes. As Gale approached home, he noticed the candle burning in the kitchen window. Ma was awake.

"Where were you?" she asked the moment he stepped through the door.

"Took some things to the Everdeens," said Gale, dropping his now-empty gamebag to the floor. His mother inspected him. She didn't need to ask if he'd been watching the Games.

"Katniss?" she asked.

"Alive," he muttered. "She got burned, but it's not too bad. Sponsors sent her an ointment."

"She must be popular," said Hazelle, "To get an expensive gift like that."

"Guess so," said Gale, torn in two directions. He didn't want Katniss to suffer, but it irritated him that her relief came from the Capitolites. The irony of it was sickening.

"Rory told me what happened," said Hazelle.

Gale crossed his arms over his chest. "Did he tell you what a complete asshole he-"

"Watch it," she said, gray eyes flashing. "He didn't have to tell me. I'm his mother. I know how he can be, but that doesn't mean you can go off and neglect your responsibilities."

Gale's eyes narrowed. She couldn't be serious. He'd spent all day hunting, he'd cooked supper, he hadn't neglected to do a thing. Anger rose like bile up his throat. "I do everything for him," he said. "Everyday I risk getting caught out there to keep all of you fed. To keep you alive. Maybe you need to talk to Rory about his responsibilities."

"I have," said Hazelle. "Keep your voice down. You'll wake them."

"I don't care," snarled Gale. "I don't care!" For all he knew, Katniss could be dead this very second. Then what? How long could he keep six people fed by himself? He was drowning in his responsibilities. "It's not fair," he said, sagging into the counter, bracing his hands against the grainy wood.

"No, it isn't," his mother agreed. She looked down at her hands, chapped and red from a long day of washing other peoples' clothes. He regretted yelling at her. She worked just as hard as he did to keep them going and he couldn't recall the last time he'd thanked her. Here he was, complaining about Rory's lack of gratitude, when he was guilty of the same crime.

"You were an asshole, too, at that age," she said, giving him a tired half-smile. "He's young. He's just figuring things out. You remember how hard that is."

Yes, Gale remembered. The last of his anger drained away. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have lost my temper with him. Or you. I just…" He dragged his fingers through his hair. Hazelle crossed the kitchen and cupped his cheek in her calloused palm.

"Not a day goes by that I don't wish better for you, for all of you," she said. "You're so young, but you already have so much to carry. If I could make things right, I would."

"It's not your fault," said Gale, brushing her arm aside. He ducked around her. "It's late. I'm tired."

He was almost out of the kitchen, when his mother said, "Thank you for everything you do. It doesn't go unnoticed."

Gale's eyes burned. It took him a moment to recognize the sensation after so long without it. He was crying for Katniss, stuck in a tree, for his siblings, even Rory, whose childhoods were being stolen from them too soon, and for his mother who'd lost so much, yet never once wavered. He wanted to tell her thank you, but the word wasn't enough, and his throat was thick with repressed tears.

"Night, Ma," he forced out, before fleeing to the room he shared with his brothers. Both of them were fast asleep. Instead of crashing onto his own bed, he sat at the foot of Rory's, and watched over him in the dark, wishing more than anything that he could protect the boy from the cruelty of their world.

* * *

The first rosy hint of sunrise feathered the horizon as Madge hurried along the dirty, deserted streets of the Seam. There was no room in her head this time for fear of dogs or consequences. The strap of her leather satchel cut into her shoulder. With each step, the old, dog-eared book within bumped against her hip.

She'd drifted off sometime in the night, while Katniss sawed away at the branch, only to be woken by screams when the tracker jacker nest burst open against the ground, releasing a swarm of angry, buzzing mutations. The Careers took off, all except the two who lay dead, their bodies swollen with poisonous stings.

Madge had watched Katniss scramble down from her perch and pry the bow and arrows from the bloated hands of the girl from One. She couldn't shake the image from her head. She couldn't forget the pleading desperation in Peeta's voice when he'd shouted at Katniss to run. She couldn't forget his cry of pain when Cato sliced open his thigh.

It was then she'd stopped watching. She didn't want to see Peeta killed. More than once, she lost herself in the labyrinthine Seam and had to retrace her steps, trying to remember the path Gale took them yesterday. By the time she found meadow again, it was nearing noon. She settled into the sweet-smelling grass. Ignored the gathering gray clouds threatening rain.

Thoughts of Peeta continued to plague her. Was he dead yet? If so, he'd died to save Katniss. Madge thanked him for that the only way she knew how. By mourning him.

* * *

Gale left the woods with a depressingly light haul. He'd done some scouting, set up new snares, hoping for better luck, but he didn't have the energy to go on a real hunt. He'd looked half-heartedly for deer tracks, remembering the doe Katniss almost shot down on Reaping Day. He was too distracted, though, by the thoughts of the arena.

After picking the mayor's strawberries, he gave up. Judging by the sun's poison, it was almost noon. He wanted to get home in time for the next Games' update. He knew Katniss had been stung by the tracker jackers. But how many times? This second, her body could be flooding with poison, every nerve short circuiting. The pain would be unfathomable.

Stop, Gale told himself. If he allowed his mind to be carried away by could bes and what ifs, there'd be no easy coming back. He squeezed through the narrow gap in the fence, for once eager to return to the confines of Twelve. Without Katniss, the woods ceased to be a safe haven, an escape. His problems stalked him through the trees in the shape of her absence.

Once through the fence, his eyes lit on a speck of blonde, shining like a beacon in the sea of green, and he was drawn to it like a wayward ship, desperate for shore.

* * *

Madge heard someone approaching. She bent her head to dry her eyes on the hem of her skirt, wiping away her tears for Peeta, before she faced the person now standing beside her. Her gaze rose along a pair of long legs in dirty gray slacks, to work-worn hands, attached to strong, sun-browned arms. Her eyes stopped before reaching a face. She'd already figured who he was.

She leapt to her feet with every intention of running before Gale started in on her.

"Woah, where you going, Undersee?" he said. She froze. He didn't sound angry, as she expected. Still, her cheeks burned at having been caught trespassing in his place. Finally, she dared to look at his face. He stood at ease, a faded black bag slung over his back. Her own bag hung by the strap from his outstretched arm.

"You forgot this," he said, giving the bag a shake. Madge made a grab for it, but he stepped back out of range. "Christ, what've you got in here? A bunch bricks?" He unzipped the bag and plunged his arm inside.

"Hey!" cried Madge, lunging forward. Her fingers looped around the strap, but slipped when she tugged. The bag thudded to the ground, the book inside spilling onto the dirt. She and Gale reached for it at the same time. He was faster.

* * *

"Give it back," said Madge, her voice a mix of alarm and fury, as she flung herself at him.

"It's just a book," said Gale, taking a step back for each step she took forward. He held the book high out of her reach and tipped his head back to read the table of contents. The titles were strange and unfamiliar, marked by an ancient number system. He scanned them quickly. Those Petty Wrongs That Liberty Commits, Who Will Believe My Verse in Time to Come, Shall I compare Thee to a Summer's Day…

"What is this gibberish?" he asked, brow furrowed. He flipped to a page in the middle and studied the unusual arrangement of the words, which filled only a small square of the page.

"It's not gibberish," snapped Madge, out of breath from leaping for the book. She seemed to have given up now, so he felt it was safe to lower the heavy thing. He was wrong. She leapt again, tearing the book from his hands, and then clutched it hard to her chest.

"Looked like gibberish to me," said Gale. He'd never seen anything like it. The only literature in Twelve were textbooks, cookbooks, how-to-manuals, and Capitol propaganda pamphlets. Suddenly, he understood why she'd panicked. "You should be more careful with that," he said, a grin spreading across his lips. "Imagine if the mayor's daughter got caught with an illegal book."

"They're just poems," said Madge defensively. Her deepened blush gave her away.

"Tell that to the Peacekeepers," said Gale, his grin turning sour. Really, it wasn't a joke. People used to be whipped just for singing forbidden songs. He hated to think what the punishment would be for a whole book of outlawed words. "Seriously, you should be careful," he said. "It's not smart to carry something like that around."

Madge raised her eyebrows. "What's in your bag, then?" she said, whipping around him to yank his game bag off his shoulders. He didn't move to stop her.

"You probably don't want to do that," he said as she reached elbow-deep into the bag.

* * *

Madge's fingertips brushed against something coarse and furry. She pulled whatever it was into the light and let out a shriek at what she was holding. A dead hare. She let it go, her stomach churning at the way it's long, brown body flopped at her feet. Clearly, its neck had been broken.

"Told you," said Gale, scooping the rabbit back into the bag.

Madge wiped her hands on her skirt. When she got home, she planned to scrub every inch of herself. Her skin crawled. She'd never touched a dead thing before. At least not a dead thing that hadn't been cooked.

"You're one to talk about toting around illegal things," she muttered.

Gale tossed back his head and laughed. Deep, infectious belly laughs. After a second, she gave in and joined him.

* * *

A mild awkwardness settled over them in the aftermath of their shared laughter. Gale sat, patted the ground beside him, and said, "Read something." Though he'd wanted to catch the afternoon Games, he wasn't quite ready to leave the meadow. He'd never admit it aloud, but he was glad that Madge was here, having had enough of his own miserable company to last a lifetime.

"No thanks," said Madge, still clutching the odd book to her chest, absently stroking the worn spine with her thumb.

"Oh, come on, just one."

"Don't you know how to read for yourself?"

"Alright," said Gale, holding out his hands. "Give it here, then." As he anticipated, she gripped the book tighter, unwilling to part with it. She probably didn't want him to dirty the pages with his Seam hands.

After another minute, she heaved a sigh of defeat and sat cross-legged beside him, the book cracked open in her lap. He watched her flip through the pages from the corner of his eye. When she settled on a poem and began to read, he leaned back onto his elbows, closed his eyes, let the sound of her voice fill his head.

* * *

Madge's choice of poem was not random. She recited the first line, her nerves causing the words to tremble in the air where they hung. "That you were once unkind to me befriends me now, and for that sorrow which I then did feel, needs must I under my transgression bow, unless my nerves were brass or hammered steel."

She paused to clear her throat.

"For if you were by my unkindness shaken, as I by yours…" She looked pointedly at Gale. His eyes closed, he smiled. As she continued, her voice grew in strength. She gave herself over to the rhythm. "...you've passed a Hell of time, and I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken to weigh how once I suffered in your crime. O, that our night of woe might have remembered my deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits."

* * *

Madge Undersee had a soothing voice when she wasn't snapping at him or putting on a show for the Capitol. A sweet, gentle voice, steady too, and so expressive he could almost feel the words. It was like she was singing, making music where there was none.

"And soon to you, as you to me," she read, "then tendered the humble slave which wounded bosom fits. But that your trespass now becomes a fee; mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me."

Gale opened his eyes when he heard the book shut. "That's it?" he said, disappointed. Madge nodded. He hadn't understood much of what she'd read, but the meaning didn't matter so much as the way her voice made him feel. "Read it again," he said.

Madge chuckled. "You never struck me as someone who likes poetry."

He wasn't interested in poetry. He just wanted to hear her read. It soothed him, but he wasn't going to admit that, in case she got the wrong idea. So he flashed her a cocky grin and said, "Sure, I like poetry."

"Tell me even one poem you know," she challenged.

Gale wracked his mind for a second. The only thing that came to him was a silly, little rhyme his mother sometimes sang to Posy. "Alright, I've got one," he said. "The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout. Down came the rain and-"

Madge cut him short with a burst of laughter. "That's not a poem," she said.

Gale shrugged. "Read another," he said. "Please."

* * *

The way he said please was so sincere, she couldn't deny the request. She chose another poem. When she finished, she began another without having to be asked, and then another. She read until her throat was sore, as the storm clouds darkened overhead.

* * *

Gale walked her to the edge of the Seam. A light drizzle sprinkled his skin. He'd lost track of time listening to Madge's lyrical reading and missed the afternoon Games. Oddly enough, he didn't feel guilty about it. Not until Madge broached the subject, shattering his hazy peace.

"Did you see the Games this morning?" she asked tentatively.

"Yeah," he said, not wanting to think about it, but thinking about it was inevitable. Life wasn't pretty words strung across a page.

"Did you see what happened to Peeta?" she asked.

Gale stopped short. His dark brows knit together. At the name Peeta, he felt he'd been stabbed through the heart. "Last I saw, he was still alive."

Relief flooded Madge's pale, pinched face. Just like that, Gale forgot how nice her voice was. He raised his walls against her again. "I thought you supported Katniss," he said sharply.

* * *

Madge was thrown by the sudden venom in his tone. "I do," she said. "Of course I do."

"Right," sneered Gale. "That's why you're so happy to hear that precious Peeta is still alive. Guess it makes sense. He's a Townie, same as you."

Just when she was beginning to think that Gale Hawthorne wasn't a concrete-headed, prejudiced jerk, he had to ruin everything. "Peeta saved her life," she said. "You do realize that, don't you?"

"He's just playing the game," said Gale. "Trying to make himself look better."

"Everything he's done has been for her!"

"Oh yeah, so teaming up with the Careers was for Katniss?"

"Yes," said Madge. "He was leading them away from her."

"And embarrassing her in front of the entire country with that bonkers love declaration?"

"You're such a…" She fumbled for the right word. Meanwhile, the rain picked up, going quickly from a drizzle to a downpour.

"Go on," said Gale, glaring down at her, oblivious to the rain streaming down his face. "I'm what."

"An idiot," she spat. "Don't you ever use your head? Oh wait, I forgot, you prefer to jump to conclusions about people based on where they're from. That bonkers love declaration is probably why Katniss had enough sponsors for burn ointment, but maybe you'd prefer she suffered."

Gale's eyes flashed dangerously. Madge worried she'd gone too far. For the first time, she was genuinely afraid of him and what he might do.

"Don't," he said through tightly pressed lips. "Don't you ever say that."

* * *

How dare she accuse him of something like that? She didn't know a damn thing. She was just a silly girl from Town.

Gale took a step towards her, his fists shaking at his sides, but the way she shied from him brought him to an abrupt halt. She raised her hands, as if to defend herself, and with a sickening lurch, he realized that she had every right to be afraid of him.

He realized that something inside of him was broken, and that if he kept lashing out at people with the sharp shatters left over, he'd soon have no one left. Without another word, he turned his back on Madge.

"Wait," she called after him. "I didn't mean-"

Gale broke into a run. Even if she gave chase, she'd never catch up. Truthfully, he wasn't fleeing from Madge Undersee. He was running from himself, from how the Games were changing him in the worst possible way.


	7. When it Rains

**AN:** Thanks you for the reviews, follows, and favorites. As for this chapter, all I'm going to say is...let's be honest, who here wouldn't love for a rain soaked Gale to show up at their door someday :)

To **Gale Lover** and **Ex2see** , you will find responses to your reviews at the end of the chapter. Your feedback is invaluable.

* * *

"Behind the wild white flash, that splits abroad the pealing thunder-crash, over bleared fields and gardens disarrayed, column on column comes the drenching rain."

Archibald Lampman

There was a power outage due to the storm. Gale could only wonder what was happening in the arena. Between claps of thunder, he heard Posy counting down from ten, and the barefoot patter of Vick's feet pass the bedroom door. They were playing hide and seek. It was a tradition started a long time ago by their father, to distract Rory from his fear of thunderstorms.

Posy got stuck at seven, like always. Six, thought Gale. You know this, Pose.

"Six!" she cried victoriously, then finished the countdown in a rush. There weren't many places to hide in their little house. All the good spots exhausted and well-known from repeated use. Once, a few weeks after their father died, he'd found Rory crammed inside one of the upper cabinets. To this day, Gale didn't know how his brother got there.

It didn't take long for Posy to scream, "GOTCHA! You're it." Then Vick was counting down. He drew out the numbers, feigning boredom. At ten, he was old enough to know he shouldn't enjoy playing kid games, but still young enough to secretly love them. That would all change as soon as he turned twelve.

The bedroom door creaked. Posy poked her dark, curly head into the room.

"There's nowhere to hide in here, Pose," said Gale, propping up onto his elbows.

"You're hiding in here," she pointed out. For a four year old, she was awfully perceptive. It was creepy sometimes and annoying most of the times.

"You better hurry," he said. "Vick will find you."

"I don't wanna play no more," said Posy, pouting. "I'm hungry."

"We've got to wait for Ma and Rory," he reminded her.

"What about the strawberries?"

Gale shot up. "The what?"

"The berries in your bag. There's lots of them. Can I have-?"

Gale brushed past Posy on his way out of the room and hurried to the kitchen where he'd left his gamebag. Posy followed, begging on in a babble. The strawberries. The damn strawberries. There they were, completely forgotten at the bottom of the bag. He'd just spent hours with Madge Undersee and hadn't once thought to sell them to her. He'd spent hours with her...As a friend? No, that wasn't right. They couldn't be friends.

Then what? They'd gone beyond mere business transactions. Gale's only certainty was that, this afternoon, he'd felt at peace. He remembered Prim's concern for Katniss, that without allies she would lose herself in the arena. Gale realized he was just as much in danger of losing himself.

"So, can I have one?" said Posy, irritated by his inattention.

"They aren't for you, Pose," said Gale. Her pudgy bottom lip trembled. That was all it took. "Alright," he sighed. He chose the four fattest, reddest strawberries and dumped them into Posy's cupped hands. "One for you," he told her firmly. "And one each for the others. Don't go eating them all."

"I won't," Posy promised. She waddled across the kitchen on short, stubby legs, cradling the strawberries like the greatest treasure in the world. Before she made it to the hall, Vick appeared.

"Where are you going?" he asked, watching Gale sling the game bag over his shoulder.

"I've got to make a delivery," said Gale. "Be home soon."

"But it's pouring out there," said Vick. A boom of thunder shook dust from the rafters. Gale knew the smart thing to do. Deliver the strawberries tomorrow. But the hours stretching between then and now loomed unbearable. He needed to talk to Madge before he lost the nerve.

"Wait," said Vick. "You can't go out in-"

"I'll be back in an hour," Gale cut him off. "Look after Posy.

He stepped out into the storm.

* * *

From the foot of the bed, Madge watched her mother sleep. She looked dead, except for the gentle rise and fall of her brittle chest. Storms always sent her tail-spinning into a frenzy, so Madge had given her a strong dose of morphling, while the maid held her down.

Lightning forked across the pitch black sky. Madge turned her eyes to the window, though she couldn't see anything through the rain-streaked glass. It was odd to go from such a peaceful afternoon to this. The storm outside raged in her breast. Her heart drummed like the raindrops on the roof. She wanted desperately to talk to her mother about Gale Hawthorne.

"Maybe he's right," she said, knowing her mother couldn't hear. "I shouldn't care what happens to Peeta." Her loyalty was supposed to belong to Katniss. No one else. "It's just not fair," she said, picking anxiously at a loose thread in the foam green comforter. "I know he has to die, but…"

But nothing. There was no other way. Madge hid her face in her hands in an attempt to blackout the whole world. She hated the Games, she hated herself for betraying her friend by sympathizing with Peeta Mellark, who was only doing what Madge couldn't, and she hated Gale Hawthorne for every time he'd walked away. Maybe her feelings weren't justified. After all, he didn't owe her anything, either. They weren't friends. Never had been, never would be.

"He's just a stupid boy," she said. "I don't care what he thinks, or says, or…" She trailed off. Gale Hawthorne was the only piece of Katniss she had to hold onto. More than anything, she hated him for that.

Mrs. Undersee snored on, oblivious, as good as dead. There was a soft knock on the door and the maid appeared. "There's a boy at the back door," she said. "He's asking for you."

Madge pursed her lips. A boy? "Who is it?" she asked.

"I don't know, Ma'am. He wouldn't give his name."

Madge was tempted to tell the maid to just send the boy away. She looked to the window again. It was a nightmare out there. The boy's reason for coming must be great to have braved the storm.

"Alright," she said. Her body protested as she rose from the bed. There was no end to the duties of a mayor's daughter.

* * *

Drenched to the skin, Gale felt like an idiot, huddling under the roof overhang. The maid had refused to let him in without a name and his reason for being there. He refused to give either. If Madge knew who was at the back door, she'd probably refuse to come down from her tower.

So he waited in the rain.

* * *

"Why didn't you let them in?" said Madge, taking the steps two at a time, the maid close behind.

"I didn't recognize him."

Madge rolled her eyes. Clearly her father's paranoia had already infected the new maid. She was a young mother from the Seam, afraid of doing any wrong.

"Stay with my mother," said Madge.

"Ma'am, I don't think your father would-"

Madge winced at being called Ma'am. She'd told the woman half a hundred times not to call her that. In another life, they might've been sisters, but in this life, they couldn't be more than employer and employed. "It's fine," she said, stopping at the bottom of the stairs.

The maid hesitated halfway up. "It's odd behavior, if you don't mind my saying so. Some man showing up in a storm like this, refusing to give his name."

It was odd, but stranger things happened at the mayor's back door. All sorts of people sought her father for favors, jobs, money, a crust of bread. There was a fully stocked pantry for just such occasions. Starving, it seemed, was worse than being struck by lightning, not that she'd experienced either.

The maid's concern was touching, though. At least someone cared about her well-being. Madge made a mental note to learn the woman's name. "Really, it's fine," she said. "Look after my mother. You've seen how storms upset her."

The maid appeared reluctant, but she couldn't disobey an order, even if it was gently worded. Madge liked her. A dangerous thing. Maids came and went.

* * *

Gale was on the verge of giving up. The mayor's house was big, but is still shouldn't be taking so long for Madge to reach the backdoor. She wasn't coming. Of course not. If some stranger showed up at his house in the midst of a summer thunderstorm, he'd assume they were crazy and bolt the door. There were all kinds of freaks in the world.

Besides, even if she did come, he didn't know what to say. Oh hey, I came all the way out here in the rain to give you some strawberries, even though they aren't worth enough credits for a loaf of bread. Maybe he was crazy. His presence here reeked of desperation. He was suddenly ashamed of giving into wild impulse.

Just as he turned to leave, the door flew open.

"I'm sorry you had to wait…"

* * *

"...out here," Madge finished weakly. Gale Hawthorne was the last person on earth she'd expected. But there he was, his shoulders hunched against the rain, and his dark hair plastered to his forehead. If he didn't look so pathetic, she'd have slammed the door on him already. She was still tempted.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

Madge crossed her arms and dug her heels into the doorway. The wind tangled her long skirt between her legs. Hard drops of rain stung her bare arms. "No," she said.

* * *

She wasn't going to budge. Okay, fine. Sell her the strawberries and just go, he told himself. When he opened his mouth to speak, something totally unexpected leapt out.

"We should be allies," he blurted.

* * *

Madge didn't hear him over a burst of thunder. "What?" she said.

"We should be allies," he practically shouted. She was certain she'd still misheard.

"What?" she said again.

* * *

This would be a hell of lot easier if she'd just let him inside. Gale flicked his wet hair from his eyes. He stepped closer to repeat himself a third time. Madge tensed, but didn't back away. She even tilted her ear towards him, which he took as a good sign.

"Allies," he said. "You and me. What do you say, Undersee?"

She let lose a short, humorless laugh. "I say you're crazy," she said. "Go home, Hawthorne."

"Wait," he cried, throwing out his arm to catch the door before she could close it. "Just hear me out, alright. That's all I'm asking for. Ten minutes."

"Fine," she snapped, stepping aside to let him pass across the threshold. "Ten minutes."

* * *

Madge stood at one end of the kitchen with her back against the wall. Gale Hawthorne stood at the other end with his back to the door. He was wasting his ten minutes. She waited for him to explain. The ticking clock on the wall marked the growing silence. As his gray eyes swept over the gleaming appliances and polished, oak table, she wondered what he was thinking.

"What's that?" he finally asked, pointing to a glass cylinder with a silver top.

"A french press," she answered automatically. He looked at her, his expression blank. "It makes fancy coffee," she clarified. "Is that all you wanted? To have a look at our kitchenware?"

"Just trying to make small talk," said Gale, raising an eyebrow at her. "It's called being civil."

"You can go now," said Madge. She wouldn't have her manners insulted in her own home. Besides, who was he to talk? Civilized people didn't drop by unannounced in the throes of a thunderstorm. Civilised people didn't lose their temper at the drop of a hat and lash out at the nearest bystander.

Gale didn't move. Her last thread of patience snapped.

* * *

Madge Undersee was on him before he knew what was happening. One second, she was standing against the opposite wall, next second she was flying across the room, crashing into him with enough force to send him back a step.

"You're the most insufferable person I've ever met," she snarled, beating her fists against his chest to punctuate each word. Gale was too shocked to react. "Just go away," she said. "Go away, go away, go away!" Her voice caught on the last away. She spun around, putting her back to him. Her shoulders heaved with every choked breath.

After a few seconds, Gale realized that she was crying. Not the silent tears she'd shed on Reaping Day. These were full blown, end of the world sobs. It was how Posy cried after waking from a nightmare. Instinct guided his hand.

* * *

Madge couldn't stop the tears from flowing. She felt she finally understood her mother. It'd be so much easier to exist in a permanent state of delirium. It wasn't until Gale's hand settled onto her shoulder, that she remembered him. She wanted to pull away, but his touch was the only weight keeping her from drifting off into madness.

Once the sobs died out and she caught her breath, Gale spoke. His voice rumbled like thunder close to her ear. "It's over now."

If only, thought Madge, sliding out from under his hand.

* * *

Gale let her retreat to her side of the room. He couldn't look at her puffy, red eyes without experiencing a stab of guilt to the gut.

"I'm sorry," they blurted at the same time, surprising each other.

"You didn't do anything," said Gale, recovering first. "I shouldn't have attacked you over the whole Mellark thing."

"True," said Madge. "But I shouldn't have attacked you just now."

"Can we call it even, then?"

She gave him a watery, half smile. "For now."

Fair enough, thought Gale.

Madge hurried on, making it clear that she didn't want to discuss any further what had just happened. "Hold on, I'll get you a towel."

* * *

Madge locked the bathroom door behind her. This wasn't happening. She hadn't just thrown a tantrum in front of Gale Hawthorne. He wasn't waiting for her in the kitchen. Boundaries, she thought, there have to be boundaries.

She leaned into the sink counter for a closer look at her reflection. Her face was red and splotchy, eyes bloodshot, the salty aftertaste of snot and tears on her lips. She wanted to curl up in the tub and draw the curtains around her, but like it or not, Gale was waiting for her. She wasn't a child. She couldn't play hide and seek with the world forever.

Madge splashed icy cold water over her face until the swelling and redness went down. There was nothing she could do about the wet handprint Gale had left on her shoulder, except let it dry.

* * *

Left alone in the kitchen, Gale's attention was drawn to a glass display cabinet built into the far wall. Housed inside was a set of the most beautiful, most impractical, dishes he'd ever seen: white plates, bigger than his head, with shimmering black and gold edges, sparkling crystal glasses, a sugar bowl in the shape of a blooming white rose. It was too pretty to eat or drink from. The whole set was probably worth enough pawned to keep everyone he loved fed for three years. Just one silver spoon would keep their bellies full for a month.

Maybe the Undersees wouldn't notice one missing spoon. He stood so close to the cabinet now, his nose nearly brushed the glass. The doors weren't locked. It'd be easy to reach in and pocket one of the spoons. Madge wasn't likely to frisk him on the way out.

But no. He wasn't a thief. His mother raised him better than that. Stealing was worse than charity.

"All of that belonged to my grandmother," said Madge.

Gale leapt back from the cabinet and spun around to find her watching him with two towels cradled in her arms. A guilty flush crept up his neck. He felt she knew the act he'd just been contemplating.

"Oh," he said. "It's, uh, nice."

"Capitol-made," she said, frowning slightly. "A wedding present from my grandfather. Here." She tossed him one of the towels, and then draped the other over a cushioned chair at the table. When she finished, she gestured for him to sit, but since she remained standing, so did he. The towel she'd given him was softer than anything he'd ever touched. It was so white and clean, he didn't want to dirty it by drying himself off.

"So," said Madge briskly after another minute of silence. "You were talking about alliances."

"Yeah," said Gale, wringing the towel between his hands.

"Go on," she said.

He took a deep breath to steady himself, opened his mouth, said nothing. His pride lodged in his throat. He swallowed hard, forcing it down. He'd come all this way. It was absurd to give up now. "I think we should team up," he said.

"We're not in the arena," Madge pointed out.

"We might as well be," he said. "We still have to play the game, right? If…" He faltered a second. "When," he corrected himself, " Katniss makes it to the final ten, there'll be more interviews, and you were...you were right. Everything we do and say affects her chances of survival. We both want her to come home, so we might as well work together."

Madge pursed her lips. She didn't speak. Again he felt that she saw straight through him, that she knew his proposition had less to do with Katniss' well-being and more to do with his own.

"Look," he rushed on, "I'm not asking you to like me or anything. When the Games are over, we can go back to how things are supposed to be, but until then…" He trailed off again. This was perhaps one of the hardest things he'd ever done. Then he considered Madge's breakdown, and dropped all pretense. "I don't want to do this alone anymore," he said truthfully. "I need-"

"An ally," she finished for him.

* * *

Gale nodded. Rubbing the back of his neck, he looked uncharacteristically vulnerable, at the end of his rope. Madge couldn't help but sympathize. All her life she'd been doing things alone. His offer was overpoweringly tempting. He was proud, infuriating, and rude, but he was here when no one else was.

"It was a stupid idea," he said.

At the exact same moment, she said, "Alright."

They stared at each other for a while. It had finally stopped raining.

"Really?" he said. "Just like that?"

Madge shrugged. She was too tired to fight him anymore. "I don't want to do this alone, either," she admitted.

"Then it's settled," said Gale.

"I suppose so."

"Alright."

"Alright," she repeated. They stared at each other a while longer. Allies, thought Madge, finding the word oddly solid and pleasing.

* * *

Gale expected his mother to be waiting for him when he returned home. Instead he found Rory alone in the living room. The power was on again and the Capitol was airing a recap segment of the Games for the Districts. Gale made a cursory glance at the flickering T.V. screen. No Katniss.

"Your dinner's on the hearth," said Rory, his eyes glued to the T.V.

"Where's Ma?" asked Gale.

"Asleep."

"Did she eat?"

"A little," said Rory with a shrug.

Gale perched on the edge of the hearth. Someone, probably Ma, had left out a bowl of watery, rabbit stew and a pair of clean clothes, kept warm by the low burning fire. The clothes he was wearing were mostly dry by now, so he decided to eat first. From time to time, his eyes darted to the television in search of Katniss.

"She's alright," said Rory, finally looking at Gale. "She's passed out, but that girl from Eleven is taking care of her."

"You mean the tiny one?" said Gale, not comforted by this new information.

"Her name's Rue," said Rory, turning his eyes back to the screen. "She's pretty smart, knows a lot about treating tracker jacker stings. The Careers got the worst of it, so they'll be licking their own wounds for a few days."

Gale slurped up the last of his soup. The tiny girl from Eleven was smart. Dropping the tracker jacker nest had been her idea. She must be brave, too, to have stayed with Katniss, even though the Careers were sure be out for blood the second they recovered. As allies went, he supposed Eleven wasn't the worst.

"How much did you get for the berries?" asked Rory.

"What?" said Gale, jarred from his thoughts.

"Vick said you went to the mayor's," said Rory. "He must really like strawberries, if he couldn't wait until tomorrow to have them. Hope he paid extra for the delivery."

Shit, thought Gale. He'd forgotten all about the strawberries again. "I, uh, forgot about them," he confessed. It'd been a long, confusing day. He was too drained to lie.

Rory smirked. "The mayor's daughter can be very distracting," he said.

"Shut up," grumbled Gale. He swiped up his clean clothes and stood.

"Well, she is pretty," said Rory, his eyes bright and teasing.

"I haven't really noticed," said Gale, striding quickly across the living room.

"Right, I forgot. You only notice Katniss."

Gale paused. Either he wasn't as subtle as he believed himself to be, or Rory was more observant than he gave the boy credit for.

"Katniss is pretty, too," said Rory, no longer teasing. "When she comes home, you should tell her."

"Thanks for the advice," said Gale. "Not that I asked for it."

* * *

 **Ex2See:** Glad you liked the last chapter. I hope Gale isn't opening too slowly, haha. I figured the guy who couldn't even tell his best friend how he felt about her isn't likely to open up in a few days to a girl he's always resented. I do promise that there will plenty of smutty moments later on in the story to make up for all the fighting.

 **Gale Lover:** Aw, I really enjoyed the writing the meadow scene, so I'm thrilled that you enjoyed reading it :) As for Hazelle, well, I absolutely love her even though she's a minor character. She's a badass widowed mother of 4 in a post-apocalyptic world, which I imagine would make her kind of tough and severe at times. The Hawthornes are such a great family in such an awful world, but I want to show that their not perfect and how their lives sometimes put a strain on their relationships.


	8. Into the Woods

**AN:** Well, here's a totally unintended cliff-hanger for ya'll. These chapters keep getting away from me.

* * *

"We have searched for hours and hours, yet we cannot find you. Or am I the one who is lost?"

Victoria Walker

Allies, thought Madge over and over again, trying to make sense of the word. Soon after Gale left the night before, she realized she didn't have the faintest idea what she'd signed up for. She'd never been someone's ally. What did he expect from her? What did she expect from him?

Between classes, afraid of bumping into him, she kept her head down in the hallways. She did want to be allies, but was nervous. As much as she loathed her life of solitude, it was comfortable in its familiarity. She hated the rules, but without them, she didn't know who to be. Gale Hawthorne's hatred had always been a rule of sorts. Something to be relied upon. Now they were allies and she felt she'd been thrown into deep water; she couldn't swim to save her life.

At lunch, when she found him sitting again in Katniss' place, she gathered her courage and went to him. She was passing a group of her classmates when her foot caught on something and she went sprawling across the dry, dusty ground. Laughter exploded above her.

"Oh no, did she faint again?" a girl giggled.

"There aren't any cameras around," said another girl. Madge's jaw clenched at Embry Royce's low, drawling voice. Royce was the ringleader of the Seam girls who hated her, having hated her the longest, for the same reasons as Gale, because she had money, and food, and heating, and air condition. In their eyes, she had everything. Most of them hated in silence; not Embry Royce.

"She tripped on her own feet," said Embry. "She never learned to walk properly, what with her servants carrying her around all the time."

Cheeks flaming, Madge scrambled to her feet. Ignore them, Katniss always told her, Just ignore them. But Katniss wasn't here and their laughter stalked her across the yard. She wanted nothing more than to shove it back down their throats, but there were only so many rules she dared break in a week. She slumped into the chair across from Gale, who was looking over her shoulder at Embry and her pack of laughing hyenas.

"Friends of yours?" he asked.

"Don't you ever go to class?" she said, ignoring his question.

* * *

Gale's eyes shifted from Embry to Madge, her fists clenched on the table top, knuckles scraped and red from her fall.

"What's the point?" he said with a shrug. "I've only got a few months left of school, and then it's off to the mines."

"That's no excuse," said Madge. "You should learn as much as you can, while you've still got the opportunity."

"Lighten up, Undersee," he said. No wonder Embry and her lot ragged on the mayor's daughter so hard. Not only was she privileged, she was also a stick in the mud. This wasn't the first time he'd watched her be publically humiliated by Royce. It was the first time he took no pleasure from it.

"You should stand up to them," he said. "Royce isn't as tough as she talks."

"Forget about it," muttered Madge, fumbling to open her paper lunch bag. Her hands were shaking too hard, so she resorted to dumping out the bag's contents, a plastic-wrapped sandwich and an apple. The apple rolled across the table. Gale rolled it back to her.

"They're never going to leave you alone if you don't defend yourself," he said.

* * *

"Really, I don't care," said Madge, wishing he'd let the subject drop. She couldn't help remembering all the times he'd laughed with the rest of them.

"I could talk to her for you," he persisted.

Madge was horrified by the offer. "No," she said quickly. That would only make things worse. She didn't need his protection. "Besides," she added, "I don't think you taking her to the Slag Heap again will make much of a difference."

Gale's smooth expression rippled with confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Madge rolled her eyes. As if he didn't know… "You used to take her there. Everyone knows that."

* * *

Gale was stunned speechless for a moment, then a slow smile spread over his lips. So, the mayor's daughter knew about the Slag Heap. "Jealous, Undersee?" he asked. A fresh wave of color surged her cheeks.

She ducked her head, muttering, "No."

"Really? Then why's your face so red?"

"It's not," she snapped.

"Go take a look in the mirror," said Gale.

"Go jump off a cliff," she fired back at him. His grin grow wider. As much as he enjoyed winding her up, he didn't want to ruin their shaky alliance on day one.

After watching her roll the apple between her palms for a minute, he spoke again. "I never took Embry to the Slag Heap." Her hands froze. She looked up at him; disbelief and scorn etched across every pinched line of her face.

"That not what I heard," she said.

"Yeah, well, if I believed everything I heard, I'd think you didn't know how to walk, because your servants carry you everywhere on a golden plinth."

"She didn't say anything about a plinth."

"I'm embellishing," said Gale. "That's what you do with rumors."

"So your reputation is all just embellishment?" she asked, eyebrows raised, daring him to lie.

"Not all of it," he admitted. He hadn't been to the Slag Heap with Embry, but not from a lack of effort on her part. Two years ago, if she'd asked him, he'd have agreed in a heartbeat, but her offer came after he realized his feelings for Katniss. He wasn't about to share any of that with Madge, though. He had a reputation to uphold. It'd been a long time since he'd been with any girl, anywhere, but he let the rumors fly. He wore them like armor. No one could accuse him of being in love with his best friend if they all thought he was whoring it up at the Slag Heap.

For some reason, perhaps because they were allies now, he did want Madge to believe he'd never been with Embry, the girl who'd made her life miserable since preschool.

* * *

Madge didn't believe him, but she didn't want this conversation to continue. What did it matter who he slept with? It was none of her business. She didn't want it to be her business.

"I think we should discuss the rules," she said.

"What rules?"

"Between us," she said, waving her hand at herself, then him. "About this whole ally thing."

"Okay," said Gale, adopting an expression of mock severity. "I won't ever try to lure you to the Slag Heap."

"I'm being serious," she huffed.

"So am I," said Gale. "Unless, of course, you ever change your mind." A mischievous twinkle shone in his Seam gray eyes and Madge felt a faint fluttering deep in her belly. She desperately wanted to look away, but her stubborn streak wouldn't let her.

"Never," she said cooly. "Not even if you were the last man on earth."

* * *

It was too easy and too much fun to mess with her. She was innocent in the same way as Katniss. The more time he spent with Madge Undersee, the more similarities he found between them. Only Gale would never dare tease Katniss this way. She'd slap him for trying.

Lunch was almost over and Madge still hadn't unwrapped her sandwich. She caught him looking at it. "Did you forget your lunch?" she asked.

"No," said Gale, straightening up.

"Oh," she said, blushing again. This time, he wasn't amused. After packing Rory's and Vick's lunches, there hadn't been much left over. For him, lunch was a luxury. A whole sandwich and an apple was a feast.

"You can have it, if you're hungry," said Madge.

"I'm not," said Gale. His stomach was suddenly full of burning coals; bitterness coated his tongue like ash. He was always hungry.

"Just take it," she said. "I swear, it's not poisoned."

"It's charity," he said flatly.

Madge pursed her lips, adopting what he'd come to recognize as her problem solving expression. Usually he was the problem. She freed the sandwich from its plastic wrapping. It was cut into two perfectly proportionate, crustless pieces.

"Rule one," she said, wrapping one half in a napkin. "As allies, we share. It's not charity."

Rule one and he already disagreed with her. For alliances to work, there had to be equality. "I don't have anything to share," he told her.

"You're sharing the meadow," she said, pushing his half of the sandwich across the table. "Are you allergic to peanuts?"

"What?"

"It's a peanut butter and jelly sandwich," she explained. "If you're allergic, you can have the apple." Clearly, she wasn't going to take no for an answer. He wanted to point out that the meadow didn't belong to him. She didn't need his permission to go there. But he knew if he didn't take the sandwich, she'd probably leave it there out of spite, and he couldn't bare wasted food.

"This is fine," he said, stuffing the sandwich into his pocket. He'd give it to Prim after school. As an afterthought, he added a grudging, "Thanks," just as the bell rang.

* * *

Before Madge could utter a quick you're welcome, Gale sprung to his feet. "Meet me at the meadow after school," he said, running a hand through his thick, black hair. "We can talk more about these rules of yours."

Without giving her a chance to respond, he dove into the crowd of students streaming back into the school. She lost sight of him for a moment, until she stood in time to catch a glimpse of him slipping out of the fenced-in yard. Obviously he hadn't taken her advice on going to class.

For the remainder of the school day, Madge hunkered down at the back of the classroom, and agonized over their meeting to come. She decided a thousand times over not to go, but when the final bell rang, she was the first out the door. Her feet adopted a mind of their own and carried her towards the Seam.

* * *

Gale rarely went to the Hob on weekdays. The place was unsettlingly empty. The vendors, usually trying to out-shout and out-sell each other, were quietly straightening their booths in preparation for the after-work rush. They nodded at him as he passed by. Their silent solidarity was a welcome reprieve from the constant condolences and questions that his teachers and peers bombarded him with at school. That was the beauty of the Hob. Words were for bartering, not wasted sentiment. Communication here was more honest.

As soon as he reached Greasy Sae's stall, she set a steaming bowl of soup onto the counter.

"I don't have any money," he said.

"On the house," she said. Her eyes, once bright blue, but turned pale by the years, narrowed, daring him to protest. Gale wasn't one to back down from an argument.

"I can trade," he said, remembering the half of a sandwich Madge had given him. Greasy Sae whacked his arm with her wooden spoon when he reached for his pocket.

"It's just dog meat," she said. "You haven't brought me anything better."

"Been busy," said Gale.

"Been watching the Games too much, that's what," said Greasy Sae, turning back to the soup kettle and stirring with more force than needed. "It won't do that girl any good, you driving yourself crazy."

Gale bit back his retort. He knew her opinion of the Games. She refused to watch even the mandated segments; wouldn't let her customers discuss them within hearing range of her booth. They're a murder of crows, she often said, getting fat on other peoples' suffering. Most of the time, he agreed with her. This year, though, everything was different.

He blew on his soup, letting it cool, and listened to Greasy Sae's muttering. He couldn't make out what she said, but guessed it was some commentary on the Capitol that could land her in a great deal of trouble. Not that anyone would ever turn her in. She was the heart of the Hob. More than that, she was the oldest living woman in Twelve. Even the Peacekeepers treated her with respect. Even the Peacekeepers were a little terrified of her. She had a tongue sharper than any whip and a mean streak miles wide. Buried under the crusty exterior, though, was a well of pure compassion.

"Well, how is our girl doing?" she asked, loud and clear, just as he went to take his first bite of soup. He let the gray clump of dog meat plop from his spoon back into the bowl.

"Not so good," he said. "She's been unconscious for more than a day." He gave no details, knowing she didn't want them.

Greasy Sae clucked her tongue. "She's not dead," she said, wiping her hands on her filthy apron. "That's something."

Gale took a bite of soup for an excuse not to respond. The dog was stringy. He was still chewing, when she went on, "The collection jar isn't full yet. It's getting there. A few more days and I'll send it in."

Katniss might not have that long, he thought, swallowing hard. As if Greasy Sae could read his mind, she said, "Boy, there's not enough to buy a grain of rice, but people have been more generous lately. After that stunt with the tracker jackers-"

"You know about that?" he asked.

"Hard not to know," she said. "It's all anyone talks about. They're starting to really believe she's got a chance of winning and you know what that would mean for the District."

Yeah, he knew. If Katniss won, District Twelve would have a year of plenty, a year of no starvations. In sponsoring Katniss, the people of Twelve sponsored themselves. Gale didn't begrudge them for it.

"Be patient," said Greasy Sae. "And bring me some goddamn meat. We're running low on dog and my customers are complaining."

Gale raised the bowl to his lips and slurped up the last inch of broth. "Alright, I hear you," he said, getting to his feet. If he didn't leave now, he'd be late meeting Madge.

"Here," said Greasy Sae, thrusting a small, burlap sack into his arms. "Give that to the Everdeens."

Gale moved to open the sack, but she hit him again with her wooden spoon. "Don't open it here," she hissed. "Idiot boy."

"Thanks, Sae," said Gale, rubbing his sore arm. He'd have a bruise, no doubt about it. "I'll see you Saturday."

"With some squirrel, I hope," she called after him.

As soon as he was a safe distance from the old warehouse and Greasy Sae's vicious spoon hand, he reached into the sack and pulled out a runty potato, small enough to fit snuggly in the palm of his hand. He shook the sack, gauging its weight, and guessed there were at least a dozen more inside.

* * *

Madge couldn't sit still. She paced the meadow, ripping up stalks of grass as she did, and shredding them between her fingers. Gale was late. Probably at the Slag Heap with Embry, she thought bitterly, imagining the two of them having a cozy laugh together at her expense. What if Royce had put him up to this? What if it was all a joke?

"Stupid," she muttered to herself. "Stupid, stupid." She shouldn't have come. She didn't belong here. Madge was seconds from leaving, with a shred of her dignity still intact, when a harried shout disrupted the still air. She turned towards the sound and saw two dark-haired boys sprinting right for her. Initially, she thought one of them was Gale, but as the boys drew near, she saw they were both too short.

The older boy reached her first. He skidded to a stop, his face bright red and his hair wind-tossed. "Have you seen Gale?" he gasped.

Madge opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't find any words. She stared at the boy, distracted by his resemblance to Gale. They had the same high cheekbones, the same long limbs, the same broad nose. It struck her that these boys must be his brothers. Katniss had mentioned their names half a dozen times, Madge was sure of it.

"Well?" the boy snapped, just as she remembered his name. Rory, that was it, and the younger one now joining them was Vick.

"He's not here," said Madge, looking from one boy to the other.

"What about Prim?" asked Rory.

"No, I haven't seen…" She fell short. Prim, as in Primrose. "You mean Katniss' sister?"

Rory seemed not to have heard. He was staring at the fence, chewing his bottom lip, deep in thought.

"We were supposed to walk home from school with her," said Vick. "She never showed." As he spoke, the color drained from Madge's face. She followed Rory's gaze to the fence and the wild forest beyond.

"You don't think she went-?"

Rory cut her off with a declaration of, "I'm going in." He was already striding towards the fence. "Vick, find Gale."

"No way, I'm going with you," said Vick.

Rory spun around and glared down at the younger boy. "Find Gale," he repeated, sounding freakishly like his big brother. "Now."

Vick didn't look happy, but he spun around and sprinted past Madge like she wasn't there. Already both boys had forgotten her. Her eyes whipped from Vick, blazing across the meadow, to Rory, slipping through the fence. It became clear to Madge what she had to do.

"Wait," she cried, running after Rory. "I'm coming with you."

He inspected her through the chain link with a look of suspicion so similar to Gale's. Madge straightened her shoulders. "I'm coming," she reasserted. Arguing was a waste of time. Katniss' sister was missing; she was in the woods somewhere, alone and likely lost.

"Hurry up, then," said Rory, before plunging past the tree line. Thinking only of Prim, Madge wiggled through the narrow break in the fence. The chain link snagged at her clothes, trying to hold her back, warning her. For once, she didn't give a damn about boundaries.

* * *

Gale was on his way to the Everdeens to drop off the potatoes, before going to the meadow. It'd be stupid to carry the sack around with him all afternoon. He'd give the Prim the peanut butter and jelly sandwich while he was there. Maybe it would cheer her up. Not likely. A sandwich was small consolation for the fact that Katniss was still unconscious. Madge Undersee could wait a little longer. Prim needed him more.

He was turning onto the Everdeen's dirt road when someone called his name. "What are you doing here?" he asked, spinning around to face Vick just before the boy collided into him. "What's wrong?" he asked, grabbing Vick's arms to steady him.

A stream of breathless, broken babble spilled out of the boy. Gale didn't catch a word of it. "Slow down. Take a breath," he ordered, though it was agony waiting.

"Prim," Vick finally managed to get out. Gale's grip tightened. "She never showed up after school. Rory...went into the woods. We've looked everywhere else. She isn't-"

Gale didn't need to hear anymore. "Rory went into the woods alone?" he said, his face turning shock white.

"No, not alone," said Vick. "The mayor's daughter went with him."

"Shit," said Gale, letting go of his brother. He shoved the sack of potatoes into Vick's arms. "Go keep an eye on Mrs. Everdeen. Don't tell her about Prim."

"What am I supposed to say?" cried Vick.

Gale had already taken off running. "Just think of something," he yelled over his shoulder without looking back.

* * *

Madge and Rory alternated calling Prim's name, their voices muted by the close knit trees. They didn't speak to each other, both of them too focused on their task. It was dark under the forest canopy. Rain from yesterday's storm dripped from the leaves. The muddy ground sucked at their feet. She struggled to keep up with Rory.

"Primrose!" she shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth. A bird screeched above and goosebumps erupted across her bare arms. She wished she had a jacket to shield her skin from the brambles. Every shifting shadow became a big cat with long claws. Did Rory know where they were, or where they were going, or how to get out of here after they found Prim? And what if they didn't find her? Madge had always assumed the woods stretched on forever.

When hopelessness threatened to overwhelm her, she thought of Katniss, who never gave up, who'd volunteered for the Hunger Games to save her sister. Madge couldn't fail her friend. She would find Prim. She'd search until she reached the ruins of District Thirteen if she had to.

"Prim," said Rory. "Prim, where are-?" A high-pitched scream cut him short. Rory broke into a run, following the sound. Moving faster than she ever had before, Madge chased after him. Branches struck her across the face; she hardly noticed. Just up ahead, Rory was shouting to Prim. There was no air left in Madge's lungs to do the same, but she kept going.

Until her foot caught on a root and she fell face first into a pile of soggy leaves. She pushed up onto her elbows just in time to see Rory vanish. She tried to stand, but a shooting pain in her ankle brought her back down. Prim's scream rang in her ears. Suddenly, Madge felt like she was in the arena.

"Get up," she snapped at herself. "You've got to get up." She used a mossy tree trunk for support on the second try. Putting even the slightest weight on her left ankle brought stinging tears of pain to her eyes. She bit her bottom lip hard to keep from sobbing aloud as she took a shaky first step, then another, dragging her left foot over the decaying leaves.

She had to be brave, and strong, and everything she wasn't. Fortunately she'd always been good at faking her way through.

* * *

Gale heard the scream and changed direction without slowing. He flew to the sound. These woods were his arena. He knew them better than the back of his hand. He knew how dangerous they could be. What had Rory been thinking, bolting into the woods without him. He knew the rules. Never, under any circumstances, was he to go past the fence alone. Gale was too frightened to be angry, though. Was it Prim who'd screamed or Madge?

Please not Prim, he thought automatically, and then felt terrible for it. He didn't want anything to happen to Undersee, either. If he'd been on time, she wouldn't even be out here. He sure as hell wouldn't have allowed it.

Gale burst into a small clearing and dug his heels into the mud to come to a stop. Relief crashed over him at the sight of Prim, her face streaked with tears and dirt. He fell to his knees before her and began to run his hands over her arms in search of injuries. "Are you alright?" he asked, cupping her face between his palms and forcing her to look at him.

The most she could do was nod. It was enough for the moment. He crushed her against his chest, holding her tight to reassure himself that she'd been found; she was safe and whole. He didn't let go until Rory came stumbling into the clearing. His eyes lit on the pair of them and he doubled over, hands on his knees.

"She's...she's okay?" he panted, staring at Prim. "We heard a scream."

Prim wiped her nose with the back of her hand and then murmured, "I thought I saw a bear, but it was just a bush, I think. I didn't mean to-" She stopped short when Gale leapt to his feet and rounded on Rory. We heard a scream. We…

"Where's Madge," he asked.

Rory blinked, momentarily confused. Then his eyes widened and he looked back over his shoulder into the dripping darkness. "She was right behind me," he said.

Gale's stomach dropped. His relief short-lived. "Stay with Prim," he told Rory. "Don't you dare move an inch." He wouldn't lose them again. He wasn't going to lose the mayor's daughter, either. The consequences of that were unimaginable.

* * *

 **Ex2See:** I hope this answers some of your questions about Gale's Slag Heap history. I've got a Slag Heap scene planned for later that I'm super excited for. Wink, wink, hint, hint...

 **Gale Lover:** Madge and Gale are about to get a lot closer in the next chapter...emotionally and (kind of) physically. Not too close, of course. Gotta build that tension until you're all bursting, haha (sorry, not sorry).

 **Guest:** Thanks for the review. I fully intend to keep writing this story :)


	9. Brave

"a thing called courage, it will open a new page…"

Matt Ancient

Evil fairies lived in the woods. That's what one of the maids told her as a child. Even at four years old, Madge had been practical. She'd never believed in fairies. Until now. She heard wings on the wind, told herself it was only the birds, but the sensation of being watched wasn't as easy to explain away. She felt eyes peering around every tree, from every hollow trunk, and from under every rock.

She hobbled as fast as she could, refusing to accept that she was lost. "Rory?" she squeaked, afraid of what might be listening. Leaves rustled behind and she spun around, hopeful. There was nothing, but the sound came again. Slowly, Madge lowered her eyes to the ground. She almost expected there to be an evil fairy at her feet. It was much worse than that.

A four foot snake slithered less than three inches from the toes of her white, leather shoes. Its black and brown scales undulating, its body moving in a fluid s-shape.

* * *

Madge left an easy trail to follow. He saw where she'd fallen. From there, her tracks revealed an obvious limp. She was dragging her left foot. She was also going the wrong way. Still, Gale gave credit where credit was due. Regardless of direction, she'd gone pretty damn far, pretty damn fast with a bum leg.

At last, he spotted her blonde hair, glaring against the deep forest green. "Undersee," the name came out somewhere between a sigh and a growl. Madge didn't look up. Her wide eyes were fixed on the ground. When he got close enough to see what had her so captivated, he froze as well. The biggest rattlesnake he'd ever encountered out here was coiled to strike at her feet.

"Don't move," he whispered.

* * *

Madge couldn't move. She'd only seen little green garter snakes in the garden. Those were harmless, unlike this monster at her feet. A rattlesnake. She recognized it from pictures in books. Since befriending Katniss, she'd taken an interest in the wildlife surrounding District Twelve, to give them something to talk about.

Pictures in books, she realized now, were no preparation for real-life encounters. Barely moving her lips, she said, "What do I do?"

"Just don't move," Gale said again. Was that really the only advice he had to offer? Every muscle in her body was clenched. She couldn't stop from thinking of other pictures she'd seen: blackened flesh surgically stripped from bone, legs amputated at the knee, and all from two miniscule puncture wounds. She remembered written accounts of the manner in which the toxins burned through the blood, killing cells, shutting down the circulatory system.

She began to hyperventilate.

* * *

Any second now, Gale expected Madge to explode, which was the worst thing to do in situations like this. He was no stranger to venomous snakes. These woods were home to rattlers, cottonmouths, and copperheads. His father taught him that if you left the snakes alone, they would return the favor. The trick was not to antagonize them, to be as unthreatening as possible.

Madge's breathing became louder, heavier, and the snake gave its first rattle. A warning.

"Look at me," said Gale.

She shook her head; eyes glued to the snake's vibrating rattle.

"Undersee," he hissed, wanting to shout. One wrong move or sound from either of them could be the death of her. "You've got to calm down. You're going to be fine. Just look at me."

* * *

No way was she going to look up, certain that the snake would strike the moment she did. But then Gale Hawthorne did the unthinkable.

"Madge, please," he said, using her first name. Until now, she suspected he didn't even know what it was. She lifted her eyes reluctantly. Apart from the stiffness of his jaw, Gale looked totally at ease.

"Good," he said. "That's good. Now breathe, nice and slow."

"Can't," she panted. If she wasn't so petrified, she'd be furious with his calm, condescending tone. Talking to her like she was an unreasonable child.

"You've got to try," he said. "It's just you and me, alright."

You and me and a rattlesnake, she thought. But she tried to follow his advice. She focused on him, allowing his calm to wash over her. Bit by bit, her breathing evened out. Whenever she was tempted to look down again, he shook his head and said, "Keep looking at me."

* * *

Gale kept his eyes locked on hers, while watching the snake from his periphery vision. Soon, it lowered its rattle. Its smooth, thick body uncoiled.

"What's it do-?"

Gale held up a hand to silence her and didn't let it drop until the snake slithered on, disappearing into the undergrowth with one last flick of its tail.

"It's gone," he told her.

* * *

As soon as the words left his mouth, Madge's knees buckled. She hit the ground and buried her face in her hands. The threat was gone, so why did she still feel so afraid? She startled at the rustling of leaves, dreading another snake, and lifted her head to find Gale crouching close to her.

"You idiot," he said, gruff and shaky, his eyes blazing with indiscernible emotion. "Where are you hurt?" She didn't understand what he was talking about until his gaze dropped to her legs.

"Ankle," she muttered. Gale reached for her foot and she skittered back. "It's fine. Just a sprain. I tripped on a...on a root." The last of her adrenaline was gone, leaving room for the pain to surge.

"Can you walk?" he asked, rising from his crouch and offering out his hand. His jaw was still clenched and his eyes suddenly cool again. You idiot, he'd said, and she was. It was arrogance to believe herself an equal match to the woods. Sometimes, she imagined what it'd be like to come out here with Katniss, where they could talk freely about all of the things they were forced to convey in code.

But this, Gale Hawthorne annoyed and glaring down at her, was a far cry from her daydreams. She saw herself as everyone in the Seam must see her. A spoiled rich girl, incapable of walking on her own two feet. Weak and inconsequential.

* * *

The mayor's daughter was hurt and it was all his fault. If he'd only been on time...Her heart-shaped face was screwed up in pain. He couldn't bare to look. It seemed every time he came near her, she got hurt somehow, whether he intended it or not.

Rory and Prim were waiting. The daylight was fast slipping away. Now wasn't the time to wallow in self-reproach. Madge still hadn't taken his hand. Her ankle was purple and swollen to the size of an egg. Maybe she was just in shock still, or maybe she couldn't stand, or maybe she simply didn't want to touch him. He didn't care either way. He focused solely on getting them all out of here before anymore disasters struck.

"What are you doing?" she shrieked when he bent down and looped one arm around her waist. He ignored the question and pulled her up, not giving her time to find her footing, before he swept his other arm across the back of her knees, and lifted her into the air.

* * *

Acting on instinct, Madge locked her arms around his neck. He was walking before she registered what had happened.

"Put me down," she said. "I can walk!"

He stared straight ahead, continuing to ignore her, and picked up his pace, moving easily despite her added weight. His warm, calloused hand cupped the back of her knee. A far too intimate touch for her liking. His sweat drenched shirt stuck to her arm.

"Gale," she hissed, trying to wriggle free.

"I'll drop you," he warned.

"Good," she said, turning to face him, and immediately wishing she hadn't.

* * *

When Madge turned her head, her lips just barely brushed against his jaw. The touch lasted less than a second, but it was long enough to strike a brief spark of heat in his stomach. He gripped her tighter, afraid he might actually drop her.

* * *

Madge was so mortified she stopped squirming. She tasted the salt from his skin on her lips and felt sick. Maybe he hadn't noticed. Oh god, she hoped he hadn't noticed.

* * *

Neither of them spoke again until they came to the little clearing where Rory and Prim waited. Gale let out a breath of relief. For once, Rory had done as he was told. Prim raised her head from her knees at the sound of their approach. The tears were gone, but Gale preferred them to the hollow defeat in her once shining eyes. She was too skinny, all skin clinging to tired bone. When she stood, it was as an old woman, not the sprite little girl he'd always known.

Gale set Madge down. His hands lingered on her hips for a moment to make sure she wasn't going to topple over. Their eyes met briefly and she ducked her head, a blush spreading over her cheeks. He remembered the soft whisper of her lips. It was nothing. An accident.

He cleared his throat, letting his hands fall from her hips.

* * *

"I need to talk to Prim," said Gale abruptly. "Rory will help you."

Prim, of course. Madge suddenly remembered how she'd ended up here. Somewhere between getting lost and facing down a rattlesnake, she forgot about Prim. Seeing the girl now, so small and sad, she wanted to say something to her, but no words came.

The way Gale wrapped his arm around Prim's shoulders and pulled her close tore at Madge's heart. The gesture was so natural and loving. Jealously stole over her, followed immediately by a surge of fresh shame. To be jealous of a little girl whose sister had been stolen from her was the highest form of selfishness.

Some friend I am, thought Madge, tearing her eyes from Gale and Prim. Rory Hawthorne was at her side now. He rubbed the back of his neck, the same way his brother did when he was uncomfortable.

"Sorry for leaving you behind," he said, refusing to meet her eyes. Instead he looked just above her shoulder.

"It's alright," said Madge. "I'm glad you found Prim. What happened? She screamed."

"Oh, that was nothing," said Rory, smirking. "She thought she saw a bear."

Madge paled. "A bear?"

"It was just a bush," he said hurriedly. "Besides, it's the cougars you've got to worry about."

She didn't know whether or not he was joking. Before she could ask, Gale shouted back to them, "I'll leave you here."

Rory rolled his eyes. "No, he won't."

Madge wasn't willing to risk it, so she draped her arm across Rory's shoulders. He was a year younger than her, but already a full head taller, and he had to crouch a little to wrap his arm around her waist.

"Sorry," he muttered. He curved his gangly body at an awkward angle to keep their sides from touching. Despite everything, Madge nearly laughed, but restrained herself, not wanting to embarrass him further.

"Come on," she said. "I'd rather not come across any cougars."

* * *

Gale didn't need to look to know that Rory and Madge were following; the sound of their awkward shuffle ricochet through the dripping leaves. Prim wasn't much quieter. Each time she stumbled, Gale steadied her, and each time she jerked away once her balance was found.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he finally asked.

"About what?" she said.

"Oh, I don't know. About why you tried to run away."

Prim looked up from the ground. "I wasn't running away," she said heatedly. "I'd never do that to Mom, or Katniss, or…" Her eyes dipped back to her feet. "Or you."

"What about Buttercup?" said Gale. "He'd be devastated without you."

Prim's lips twitched, fighting against a smile. She never laughed anymore, which was just another something to add to his list of grievances against the Capitol. They'd stolen Katniss and they'd stolen Prim's laughter. It was unforgivable.

"Why'd you come out here, then?" he asked. "You hate the woods."

"I thought I should get used to them," said Prim with a half-hearted shrug. "If Katniss doesn't wake up, I'll have to learn to hunt. She was my age, you know, when she first started coming out here by herself. I should've come with her. I just thought…"

Gale knew what she'd thought. That Katniss would always be there. "Stop that," he said, more sharply than intended. "I don't want to hear you talk like that, Prim."

"Why not?" she demanded. "I've got to be realistic. It's been two days, Gale, she might never wake up. She might never come home."

Rory and Madge were a fair distance behind, so Gale stopped and caught Prim's arm. "Don't you dare give up on her," he said. "She will come home. For you. She promised, didn't she?"

"Yes, but-"

"And when has she ever broken a promise?"

"Never," admitted Prim.

"Besides, you don't think I'd let you starve? Whatever does happen, I'm going to take care of you and your mom."

Prim's smile was sad. "You're just one person," she said. "You can't feed seven mouths forever."

"I won't have to. Katniss is going to win. If you still want to learn to hunt, I'm sure she'll teach you when she comes home. Until then, you've got to promise you won't go past the fence."

"I promise."

Satisfied, Gale began to walk again. It didn't escape his notice that Prim's step was much lighter now. After a few minutes, he caught her glancing back at Rory and Madge.

"Is the mayor's daughter okay?" she asked, a wrinkle of concern between her brows.

"She'll survive," said Gale, not wanting to think about Madge just yet. The first day of their alliance hadn't exactly gone as planned.

"I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt," said Prim.

"It's not your fault," he said, thinking at the same time, it's mine.

Prim looked over her shoulder again. "She really is Katniss' friend, isn't she?"

Gale's answer came automatically, taking him a little by surprise. "Yeah, she is." Madge had risked her life for Prim, a girl she'd never even officially met. Never again would he doubt that she was, in fact, Katniss' friend.

* * *

Gale and Prim were too far ahead for Madge to see them. She was careful not to put too much of her weight on Rory.

"It's okay," he said after a while of awkward hobbling. "You can lean on me, if you need."

"I'm fine," she said, though she wasn't. Her left ankle yielded under the smallest pressure. A few steps further and she caved against Rory. From the corner of her eye, she caught him stealing curious glances at her.

"So," he said, drawing out the O. "What were you doing in the meadow?"

Madge could tell by the way he said you, he meant a Townie. "I go there sometimes now," she said. "To think about Katniss." It wasn't a lie. There was no reason that Rory, or anyone else, needed to know she also went there to meet Gale.

"Oh," he said. "I thought you were meeting Gale."

"What?" spluttered Madge. "Why would you think that?"

She felt Rory shrug under her arm. "He said he was going after school. Just kind of a coincidence, for you both to be there."

"Not really," said Madge.

"Okay," said Rory. "I believe you." He didn't sound like he believed her at all.

* * *

Gale didn't breathe easy until Rory and Madge slipped through the fence. He was tired, hungry, and still wound tight from the last few hours. He thought longingly of bed, of falling into a deep sleep and not waking again until Katniss did. Then he looked at Madge, leaning against the fence and gasping for air, trying not to let on to how much pain she was in. Sleep would have to wait.

"You two go ahead," he said, looking at Rory, then Prim. "Your mom's probably got the truth out of Vick by now."

"You left her with Vick," said Prim.

"I didn't have many options," chuckled Gale, giving her a gentle push. "Go on. Rory, tell Ma I'll be home soon."

"I'm not your messenger boy," said Rory.

"You want me to tell her you went into the woods alone?" said Gale. It was a cheap threat, but he was in no mood to argue.

"Come on, Prim," grumbled Rory, glaring at his brother as he grabbed her hand and set off across the meadow. Gale watched them until they were two pinpricks against the deepening blue horizon, and then he turned his attention back to Madge. There was a sickly green tint to her face, her lips pressed in a thin, white grimace, little blonde curls clung to her sweaty cheeks and brow. Idiot, he thought again, caught off guard by how fondly he felt towards her right then.

* * *

Madge felt him staring at her. Left alone with him, snakes writhed in her belly. He was angry at her, he always was, only this time he had every right to be. Even if her intentions were good, she should've known better than to think she was capable of rescuing anyone, when she couldn't even care for herself. Now he was stuck with her, instead of on his way home, or with Prim, who needed him more.

"I'm sorry," she blurted, unable to take the silence any longer. "I know you're mad and you should be. It was stupid for me to go after her. I never should have-"

To her surprise, Gale laughed. "I'm not mad at you," he said.

Madge finally worked up the courage to look at him. He had his hands in his pockets, an amused half smile on his lips. Still, she didn't believe him. Of course he was angry. He hadn't spoken or looked at her the whole way back to the fence. She was just a burden to him. That's all she was to anyone, even to herself.

"It's alright," she muttered. "You don't have to lie and you don't have walk me home, either. I'm fine. You've done enough for…"

* * *

Madge wrung her muddy hands together as she rambled. Gale closed the distance between them in two quick strides and she fell short. She pressed her back to the fence like a cornered animal.

"I don't think it's stupid, what you did today," he said seriously. "I think it was...brave."

* * *

Madge was stunned. No one had called her brave before. Warmth crept up the back of her neck. Her hands went still. She forgot about the throbbing pain in her ankle as she inspected him for any hint of deceit. Surely he was lying because he pitied her, or because he wanted her to shut up, but his gaze was soft and genuine.

"Really?" she asked.

"Really," he said, his smile widening.

The warmth crept higher into her cheeks. Today struck her as an impossibility. That she'd been on the other side of the fence, though, seemed normal compared to an honest compliment from Gale Hawthorne. It made her less nervous to think he was angry at her.

* * *

"Well, you still don't need to walk me home," said Madge. "I really am fine." Then, as if to prove it, she pushed off of the fence. As soon as she did, she tipped sideways, her swollen ankle refusing to take her weight a second longer. She crashed back against the fence, making the chain link rattle.

"Liar," said Gale, folding his arms across his chest. She was too stubborn, and too proud, for her own damn good. He supposed he could relate, but he'd twisted his ankle enough times to know the truth of the pain.

"I'm not lying," she huffed. "I just need a second to-"

Gale didn't let her finish. They could keep at it all night. Personally, he'd rather sleep. He swept her up into his arms again, ignoring her squeals of protest. "Shut up, Undersee," he said. "I'm not leaving you out here. What kind of ally would that make me?"

"But-"

"Just don't kiss me again," he cut her off.

* * *

So he had noticed. Madge wanted to bury her face in her hands and never resurface, but she was afraid to unwind her arms from their chokehold around his neck.

"I didn't...I never…" she stammered, only digging herself a deeper hole. She felt Gale's laughter rumble in his chest.

"Don't worry," he said. "I get it. You were trying to thank me for saving your life."

"I didn't kiss you!" she said, jabbing her elbow into his stomach.

"Sure," he said with a shrug, his smarmy smirk infuriating. It was useless to argue with him. He was such a...such a...she couldn't find a strong enough word. Madge fumed silently until they were out of the meadow.

"You know," said Gale, "Maybe we should add that to the rules."

"Add what?" she asked.

"No kissing."

"Fine. That's easy."

"And no more going into the woods," he said, serious now.

"Fine." That should be easy, too. She'd had enough of the woods to last a lifetime. Though if forced to chose between crossing the fence again or kissing Gale Hawthorne, she'd chose the woods, rattlesnakes and cougars and all.

* * *

 **AN:** Fun fact, I was in school at Asheville while the first Hunger Games was being filmed, though sadly I never caught a glimpse of the cast. I just spent countless hours staring at the hotel where they stayed, haha. Anyways, the point being, I based all of the scenery and wildlife in this chapter off of my beloved mountains. And yes, we do have rattlesnakes and cougars, though I never saw any of those either (thank goodness).

 **Gale Lover:** Don't worry, there will be retaliation for Madge's bullies, but probably not for a little while. Embry Royce is going to be a relatively significant OC character. Thanks again for reviews. They really light up my day.

And a big thanks to everyone else who has read, reviewed, faved, or followed my silly little tale.


	10. Home Intruder

**AN:** This chapter was a pain in the ass to write, so I hope it's not as terrible as I think it is. Coming up, Madge and Gale have some serious talking to do...

Endless thanks to **Gale Lover** and **Ex2See** for your reviews, and to everyone else who's read. I know Madge's and Gale's relationship is totally messed up and it's only going to get more messed up. I am not a happy love story kind of writer, in case you hadn't already figured that out :)

* * *

"Some sympathy was wasted on the house [...] But a house isn't sentient; the house didn't feel anything."

Robert Frost

Katniss had finally woken up and it was a cloudless, blue day. Eleven tributes were dead. They were almost to the halfway mark. All morning, Gale struggled to keep his hopes in check. He knew what happened next. The Games slowed. Strategies and alliances were most important now. The two things Katniss was worst at.

Even though it was pointless, he couldn't help strategizing for her from two thousand miles away. That little girl from Eleven, who'd nursed Katniss back to health, was now stalking her through the arena. It wouldn't be long before Katniss noticed her and Gale didn't doubt that when she did, she'd offer to team up. Rue was smart and she was fast, but she'd be useless when it came down to the inevitable showdown with Careers.

Then there was the boy from Eleven, hiding out in the grasslands, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Gale wondered what his relationship was to his tribute partner. Would he ally himself with Katniss if she took Rue under her wing? With Thresh on her side, Katniss would be evenly matched against the two remaining Careers, but once they were out of the way…Could she beat Thresh one on one? He'd be expecting an arrow in his back. There'd be no room for the element of surprise.

Gale couldn't talk about these things with Prim or his family. They all had enough to worry about without him piling on his obsessive and unproductive scheming. Three-fourths of his time was spent with Katniss in the arena and he was bursting with plots, and complications, and trying to keep three steps ahead of the Gamemakers, which was impossible. He needed a fresh point of view, a bridge out of the round-and-round arguments he made for himself.

By lunchtime, Gale's head was full and aching with all of the ever-shifting variabilities. He waited at Madge's table, eager to run some of his theories by her. Walking home the night before, once they'd exhausted the topic of rules for their alliance, they'd moved on to the Games. He learned quickly that Madge Undersee knew a lot more than he did about the going-ons in the arena. _We get full coverage,_ she'd told him. _Like in the Capitol._ Instead of chaffing at yet another privilege the mayor's daughter could afford, Gale had pestered her to tell him everything, every little detail. There was still more he wanted to know.

It wasn't until the end of Madge's lunch period, when there was still no sign of her, that Gale surfaced from the arena. Realizing that she wasn't coming, he felt a twitch of annoyance. What was the point of having an ally if they weren't going to show when you needed them? If he'd known she wasn't there, he wouldn't have bothered coming to school at all.

* * *

Madge lay in bed atop the covers with her mother tucked in beside her, reading from the old and worn-out book in her lap. She didn't even need to look at the page to know what words came next, she'd read these same passages so many times. It was her mother's favorite. A whimsical story about a young girl named Alice who lived in a far away place called Wonderland and an even further away time.

Madge came to her favorite line. "I almost wish I hadn't gone down the rabbit-hole..." she said, staring out the window at the cloudless, blue sky. "...And yet-and yet-it's rather curious, you know, this sort of life. When I used to read fairy tales, I fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of one."

With a sigh, she tore her eyes from the window and looked down at her mother, sleeping soundly now. It'd been a long morning. Every day was a bad day for her mother, but it was always worse during the Games. Her wild fits came more frequently. The smallest thing could set her off for hours. This time, it was the mockingjay pin again. Madge had been woken in the middle of the night by her mother's frantic search, to find half the house already torn apart: the contents of every draw in the kitchen turned onto the floor, every article of clothing in every single closet ripped down and trampled, books swept from every shelf in the library. It had taken Madge all morning and well into the afternoon to calm her down.

She closed the old book with a snap. It was the same one her mother and Maysilee read together as children under their blankets late at night, when they were supposed to be sleeping in their own beds, their own rooms. _We always slept together,_ her mother once told her, a long time ago, in the better days. _We couldn't sleep without each other._ Now her mother couldn't sleep without morphling.

* * *

Gale only had to knock once before the maid appeared. It was the same woman who'd left him out in the rain the other night. She didn't look any happier to see him now that the sky was clear and the sun shining.

"You again," she said, her gray eyes narrowing. She was obviously from the Seam, same as him, but that didn't stop her from scowling at the coal blackened hem of his pants.

"I'm here to see Madge," he said. The maid inspected him for a full second longer. He matched her sour stare and planted his feet shoulder-width apart to show that he wasn't going anywhere until he saw the mayor's daughter. He was tempted to shove past her and go find Madge himself, but there was something intimidating about the big, brick house. He'd probably get lost inside.

"Fine," the maid said. "I'll tell her you're here, but she won't want to see you."

Before Gale could ask what the hell she'd meant by that, she closed the door in his face.

* * *

Madge closed her eyes and ran her fingers through her mother's hair, remembering when it was yellow as a daisy and smooth as silk, not ash gray and and coarse to the touch like it was now. She remembered the feel of it tickling her nose every night when her mother leaned over to tuck her into bed. Most of the time, Madge tried not to think about the better days. They were done and gone forever. Better to let them lie buried, spare herself the pain of unearthing what was dead.

But sometimes, when she least expected it, a sudden memory leapt out at her and instead of pushing it away, as she knew she should, Madge embraced it with open arms, letting it claw at her heart until some obligation or other tore her away. This time, that obligation was Nedy rapping gently on the bedroom door.

Madge untangled her fingers from her mother's hair and slid off of the bed. She hobbled across the room, grimacing the whole way, and opened the door just wide enough to slip through into the hallway. Nedy stood against the opposite wall, her eyes fixed on the door like there was nightmarish creature on the other side. Her hand brushed over the red scratches peeking out from the pressed, white collar of her uniform. A gift from Madge's mother.

Maids came and went quickly in the Undersee household. Madge didn't blame them. Sometimes she wished she could leave too. She liked Nedy, though, and dreaded the day she finally quit.

"That boy's here again," said Nedy. "Should I send him off?"

"No," said Madge, a little too quickly. Nedy pursed her lips and she worried that the maid could somehow hear how her pulse had quickened. "He brought my schoolwork," she lied.

"He doesn't have any books," said Nedy.

 _Of course he doesn't,_ thought Madge. She was too impatient, though, to bother fixing the lie. "I want to talk to him," she said, trying to sound stern.

"It's your house, Miss," said Nedy, disapproval written all over her face. "But you really be shouldn't be moving around on that ankle."

"It's nothing," said Madge for what felt like the hundredth time. Secretly, she relished in the maid's attention. Her father hadn't noticed anything wrong with her as he'd rushed out the door early that morning. Her mother never noticed anything.

Still, Gale was waiting downstairs and she _did_ want to talk to him. All day she'd wanted to talk to him, with no hope she'd be able to, certain he wouldn't come all of the way into Town to see her after spending half of yesterday together.

"Why don't you get to work on the library? It's a wreck in there still," said Madge, already limping as fast as she could towards the stairs. "I'll come help in a little bit."

"I've got a roast in the oven," said Nedy.

"I'll take it out," said Madge without looking back.

"Be careful."

Madge wasn't sure if she meant be careful walking down the stairs, or be careful not to burn herself taking out the roast, or to be careful of Gale Hawthorne.

* * *

Gale leaned against the side of the house. The sun-baked bricks warming his back and his head in the arena again. He'd watched the afternoon update with Prim after school. Katniss and the little girl from Eleven were officially allies. No surprises there. They were both safe for now. The Careers never went far from the cornucopia, but soon they'd resume the hunt. Gale could tell they were already growing bored, their bloodthirst heightened by Katniss' stunt with the tracker jackers.

He wondered what Madge thought about the alliance with Rue. Did she know what the Careers were planning? He assumed since she hadn't been at school, she'd spent all day in bed, her sprained ankle propped up on a tower of velvet pillows, watching the Games. No doubt, she'd have a gold mine of new information to share.

A sharp beeping sound interrupted Gale's thoughts. At first, he thought he imagined it. Everything was quiet and soft in the late afternoon light. There was no one else in sight. Looking around for the source of the sound, his eyes lit on the purple pansies lining the cobbled walkway from the street to the mayor's back door. Somehow, in all the times he'd been here, he'd never noticed the flowers, and he wondered who planted them in such an unnaturally straight line. He imagined Madge Undersee with a dirt smudge across her cheek and a pair of gardening gloves pulled up to her elbows.

The image quickly faded when he heard the beep again.

* * *

Madge was halfway down the stairs when the oven timer went off, the sound echoing down the hall and shattering the dead silence of the house.

* * *

The beeping was definitely coming from inside of the house. Gale stared at the door. He picked anxiously at the loose threads on the insides of his pockets. Going in was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea…

But then there it was again, that insistent beeping. The sound raised a vague memory of the school fire alarms that he'd heard only a few times and which hadn't worked in over six years. He listened hard for crackling flames. There was only the beeping, growing louder and more urgent with each passing second. He wrapped his hand around the doorknob. It wasn't hot, but that didn't mean anything. If there was a fire, it might not have come this far yet.

If there was a fire, it needed to be put out immediately. On a hot, dry day like this, he dreaded to think how fast it could spread before the Peacekeepers roused themselves to action. In the Seam, he'd seen houses burn down in five minutes flat.

Unable to ignore the beeping any longer, Gale pushed open the door with the toe of his boot and stepped over the threshold.

* * *

Every beep made Madge grind her teeth. Her nerves were already scraped raw from a long day of warring with her mother and she felt like the timer was taunting her. Each beep a reminder that she wasn't moving fast enough.

* * *

The mayor's oven was going to explode. Gale was certain of it. Why else would it be making that sound? He hesitated to go any closer, his wary eyes fixed on the red zeros flashing across a little screen above the stovetop. In his experience, the end of a countdown was never a good thing.

* * *

"Alright, I'm here," snapped Madge as she crossed through the open archway leading into the kitchen. "So you can shut up already."

She realized too late that the room wasn't empty like she expected it to be.

* * *

Gale nearly leapt out of his skin at the sound of Madge Undersee's voice. He hadn't heard her approaching over the damned beeping. He whipped his head around to see her frozen in the doorway, her lips still parted in surprise.

"I think something's wrong with your oven," he blurted out, desperate to explain why he was standing in her kitchen uninvited. His eyes darted nervously back to the flashing red zeros.

* * *

Madge burst out laughing. She couldn't help it. Gale Hawthorne, the boy who wasn't afraid to of the woods and who didn't blink an eye at rattlesnakes, was now looking at her oven like he expected it to blow at any minute.

"Aren't you going to do something?" he asked, his words clipped. He was trying, and failing, to conceal his distress. After all of the times he'd teased her, Madge was in no hurry to put him at ease, but she did need to do something before the roast burned. She stifled her laughter and hurried across the kitchen.

"It's just the timer," she said, brushing past him to get to the stove.

* * *

Madge pressed a button and the beeping stopped immediately. The flashing red zeros disappeared. "You idiot," she said, tossing a quick smirk at him over her shoulder. Gale was glad that she turned around again before the heat of a blush rose to his cheeks.

Her hair swung over her shoulder as she bent over to slide the pan out of the oven. After dropping it onto the counter, she spun back around, the corners of her lips still slightly upturned, a teasing glimmer in her cool, blue eyes. "You're safe now," she told him.

"Shut up," muttered Gale. It was the best he could come up with. His whole face was burning now and there was nothing he could do about it.

* * *

Madge wanted to tease him some more. He deserved it. Besides, he was the one who'd told her to stand up to her bullies, but then she remembered that he wasn't her bully anymore. He was her ally. "Do you want something to drink?" she finally asked.

"No," said Gale gruffly. His arms were folded over his chest, his gray eyes narrowed, and just a hint of red left in his cheeks.

Madge heaved a sigh. "Don't be such a baby," she said. "I was only poking fun."

"Very funny," he snorted. "I thought your house was on fire."

"Well, it's not."

"Obviously."

Silence again. Madge drummed her fingers against the marble counter top. She supposed timers were a rare luxury in the Seam and felt a sudden wash of regret for making fun of his panic. She opened her mouth to apologize, but Gale beat her to the punch.

"Have you been watching the Games?" he asked, clearly eager to change the subject. It worked. Madge swallowed down her half-formed _sorry_ and shook her head. Gale's eyes narrowed even further. "What the hell have you been doing all day, then?"

Madge bristled. "Stuff," she said.

"Stuff?" he repeated, the word dripping with disdain. She knew what he was doing, trying to make her feel bad in retaliation for laughing at him. She shifted her weight to mirror his defensive stance.

* * *

"Stuff," said Madge one last time, the finality of her voice falling over him like a whip. Gale had been waiting for this conversation all day, waiting for her to fill him in on everything the Capitol didn't see fit to share with viewers in the Seam, and all day she'd been doing _stuff_. Whatever the hell that meant. For a moment, he was too crushed from disappoint to respond. He wanted to know what was so important that she could forget about Katniss, but it was clear from the stubborn tilt of her chin that she wasn't going to say anymore about it.

Gale reminded himself that he hadn't come here to fight with her. He let his arms fall to sides. "She's awake," he said. Madge's brow furrowed. "Katniss," he added. "She woke up this morning." Her brow furrowed even deeper.

* * *

It took a few seconds for Gale's declaration to sink in. _She's awake._ Katniss was awake. She was alive. It wasn't until then that Madge realized she'd almost given up on her friend. Astonishment and relief saturated every cell in her body. Then a wave of pure ecstasy crashed over her, washing away everything else in the world. Caught in the swell of it, she flung herself across the room.

* * *

A smile broke across Madge's lips. He was stunned by the fierce joy of her expression. Before he could adjust to the blinding light seeming to shine from her every pore, she leapt at him. Gale braced himself for another beating, like the one she'd given him the last time they were face to face in her kitchen. Just before she reached him, she stumbled on her bad ankle. On instinct, he reached out to catch her, but it happened too fast. She slammed into him facefirst. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling his head down into the crook between her neck and shoulder. Instead of letting go, like he expected her to, she tightened her grip, choking him.

Suddenly, it dawned on him that this wasn't an attack. It was an embrace. A very clumsy and very violent one, but a hug all the same. His cheeks flamed for the second time that day. His arms were stiff, still outstretched. He didn't know what to do with them. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Madge Undersee was actually _hugging_ him.

* * *

After a minute, Madge realized how tense Gale's body was against hers. She pulled away, horrified by her lack of restraint. Even once she'd retreated a few steps, he didn't lower his arms, didn't move at all. He looked even more distressed than he had five minutes ago, but she didn't enjoy his discomfort this time. She felt her own too keenly. The smell of his clothes, pine needles and coal dust, lingered in her nose, making her want to sneeze.

"Sorry," she said, her eyes flitting to the yellow linoleum beneath her feet. "I...I…um...I just-"

* * *

"Yeah, I know," Gale cut her short. He didn't need an explanation. He didn't want one. It'd only make this situation more uncomfortable. Remembering how to move, he rubbed the back of his neck, sore from where she'd grabbed him.

"It's only, I'm so-"

"Relieved," he finished for her. In a softer voice, he added, "Me too."

Her head still tilted down, she looked up at him through pale blonde eyelashes. A shy smile returned to her lips and he was just beginning to return it when a bloodcurdling scream cut through the residual awkwardness between them.

* * *

Madge wanted to sink through the floor to escape her mother's scream. _Not now,_ she thought. _Please not now._ There was a loud crash directly above them.

"What the hell, Undersee?" Gale shouted over the screaming. He was looking wide-eyed at the ceiling with his hands clamped over his ears. She wanted to cover her own ears. More than anything, she wanted this all to be a bad dream.

But it wasn't. Her mother's screaming was all too real. She felt the vibrations under her suddenly too-tight skin. Gale was looking at her now, waiting for an explanation she couldn't give. She could only manage two words, "Stay here." Then she darted out of the kitchen.

She took the stairs two at a time. Her sweaty palm slipped over the polished banister. The screaming filled her ears. She followed it past her mother's bedroom, the door thrown wide open, past her father's locked office, up another flight of stairs to the third floor, and down the dimly lit passage to the library at the end.

Before she entered, she stole a second to prepare herself. Gale Hawthorne was downstairs, still waiting for an explanation, but she couldn't worry about that, not yet. _One problem at a time,_ she told herself firmly, straightening her shoulders and stepping into the library.

Books littered the floor. Ripped out pages strewn everywhere, over everything. The mahogany table, where she often did her homework, had been tipped over onto its side. Madge barely noticed the destruction. Her full attention went to her mother, standing with her back to the wall, a fire iron gripped in both hands.

"You can't take her!" she screamed, swinging the fire iron at Nedy and just missing her.

"Get back," barked Madge, grabbing the maid's arm and pulling her out of harm's way. There were fresh scratch marks across her cheek. Drops of blood stained her white collar.

"Don't!" cried Nedy when Madge took a step towards her mother. "Please, Miss. We should just leave her."

Madge ignored Nedy's warning. She couldn't just leave. When her mother was in a state like this, there was no telling what she'd do. She was a danger to everyone around her, but even more, she was a danger to herself.

"It's okay, Mama," said Madge, getting as close as she dared. She kept both hands in the air where her mother could see them. "No one's going to hurt you." But her mother wasn't listening. Her mother was somewhere else very far away. Her blue eyes were wild with fear. Madge took another step. It was a mistake. Hissing, her mother swung at her. Madge leapt back a second too late. The iron poker caught her square in the stomach, knocking the breath out of her.

* * *

Gale had only ever heard screams like this on Reaping Day. His blood ran cold, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. What the hell was happening up there? _Stay here,_ Madge had told him. She hadn't shown a hint of surprise. If anything, her expression had been one of cold resignation, like this was an everyday event in the mayor's household. _Stay here. Stay._

For a moment, he considered leaving. There was something unimaginably terrible about those screams, twisting in his gut, but then there was another loud crash from above and he heard a different scream, one of pain, one he recognized. _Madge,_ he thought, already sprinting across the kitchen.

* * *

"Mama, no!" screamed Madge from the floor. Her mother wasn't listening. She towered over her, swinging the fire iron high over her head. Madge threw up her arms to shield herself, but the blow never came. Nedy leapt in front of her and caught hold of the poker as it came down. Still in shock from her mother's first strike, Madge watched the two women wrestle over the fire iron.

Soon, Nedy managed to managed to wrest the poker from Mrs. Undersee's iron grip. Now disarmed, Mrs. Undersee crumpled. She curled up in the fetal position, clutching her knees to her chest, and wailing like an infant. "I won't let them take you," she sobbed, her frail body convulsing. "I promise, May. I promise, I promise."

Madge's heart split down the middle. No matter how many times she saw her mother this way, it never got easier. She crawled to her, once again ignoring Nedy's protests. "No one's taking me away," she said, wrapping her arms tightly around her mother.

"May?" her mother asked, looking up at her with tear filled eyes.

"I'm here, Sissy," said Madge. "I'm not going anywhere." Her mother, sobbing and confused, clutched the front of her dress and collapsed against her. Madge stroked her hair and whispered comforting words into her ear. After a few seconds, once she'd finally caught her breath again, she lifted her eyes to Nedy, who was just as pale and shaky as her mother.

Her gaze didn't linger long on the maid. She looked past her to the dark haired boy standing in the shadowy doorway.

* * *

Gale was frozen on the threshold. It looked like a tornado had blown right through the mayor's library and the three women inside had barely escaped with their lives. He saw the maid, clutching an iron poker in her trembling hands, rivulets of blood streaming down her pale cheek. He saw the woman sobbing in Madge's arms. He regretted leaving the kitchen.

Just as he was about to slip away, before the women noticed him, Madge looked up. Her eyes locked onto him, keeping him frozen, caught where he wasn't supposed to be. There was so much agony pouring from her blue eyes that he felt his own heart breaking. He couldn't look away, no matter how much he wanted to.

Only seconds passed, but it felt like a lifetime. "Out," said Madge at last, her voice flat, barren. For once, he didn't argue. He should have listened to her to begin with, should have stayed downstairs. He spun on his heels and fled. Somehow, the silence of the house was even worse than the screams.


	11. Secret's Out

**AN:** Thanks new people who've followed and faved, and to anyone reading out there :)

* * *

"A secret told, ceases to be a secret."

Emily Dickinson

Gale didn't know if Madge had just meant _out_ of the room or _out_ of the house. He didn't care. His only thought was to get as far away from the mayor's house as possible. Whatever he'd just witnessed, it was none of his business. His heart was still racing by the time he burst through the backdoor. He was almost to the end of the walkway when he remembered Madge kneeling on the floor, looking up at him such despondency, such hopelessness.

He stopped dead in his tracks, the house looming behind him. _You've got your secrets and I've got mine,_ she'd said when he confronted her about the mockingjay pin. At the time, he hadn't given those words much thought. What secrets could the mayor's daughter possibly have? His eyes were drawn back to the big, brick house. Every curtained window seemed ominous to him now. He'd seen too much, gone too far inside.

 _Forget it,_ he told himself. But Gale knew that he couldn't. The questions would always be there. He was the one who'd started this, the one who'd gone where he wasn't supposed to, and he couldn't just walk away. Not this time.

* * *

Madge checked her mother's restraints to make sure they weren't too tight. "I'm sorry, Mama," she said. Her mother stared blankly at the ceiling. Her lips moved. No words came out. It was too soon to give her anymore morphling. The restraints would have to do. Though she wasn't acting violent anymore, Madge didn't want to take any chances.

She hobbled over to the full length mirror and raised her shirt to inspect the damage her mother had done this time. An angry red slash cut across her stomach. She let her shirt drop. It wasn't so bad. There probably wouldn't be a scar, just a week of aching bruises.

Madge didn't know where Nedy had run off to. _At least she stayed to help strap her down,_ she thought, glancing at her mother's reflection in the mirror. Few maids were willing to do that and none of them had ever thrown themselves in harm's way to shield her. Madge wouldn't forget it. She expected Nedy's resignation in the morning and she meant to give her a generous bonus. It was about as close to _thank you_ as she could get.

Light from the leisurely setting sun streamed in through the window. Madge was drawn to it. She pressed her palms against the warm glass. It was always so cold in her mother's room. She looked in the direction of the Justice Building, though she couldn't see it from here, and wondered when her father would come home. Probably not until late in the night.

A sob caught in her throat. She needed Katniss now more than ever, just to sit with her in quiet understanding. Those were the only times Madge hadn't felt alone, always alone. When she saw a streak of dark hair below, an irrational hope fluttered in her chest, but it was just Gale Hawthorne slipping through the side gate into the garden.

Madge sighed. Of course he was still there, waiting. She watched him for a while, unsure what to do about him. It would be easy to lock him out, pretend he wasn't there, but then she'd only be locking herself in. That wasn't a life, trapped in this house with her mother and a ghost-aunt.

* * *

Gale felt a prickle of eyes on the back of his neck. He looked up at the house again and caught a glimpse of Madge in one of the second-story windows before she closed the curtains. She'd seen him. He didn't doubt that, but whether she'd come outside or not was a different story.

With nothing better to do while he waited for Madge, he explored the little garden he now found himself in. There were a few lucky families in the Seam with gardens of their own, but nothing anywhere close in size or variety as this one. Nowhere near as neat, either. Every row was so straight, they looked to have been planted by the edge of a ruler. A row for corn, for the tomato vines, for eggplant, and zucchini, and squash, but no flowers. This wasn't a decorative garden, though why the Undersees needed to grow their own vegetables was a mystery to him.

When he heard the gate creak, Gale rose from his crouch over a bed of leafy lettuce heads and turned around. Madge was leaning against the white picket fence with her arms wrapped around her waist. She looked tired, wary...embarrassed.

"Nice garden," said Gale to break the silence. She didn't respond for a long time. He was beginning to think she wouldn't, when she finally spoke.

"It's for the orphanage," she said, taking a few steps further into the garden.

* * *

Madge stopped a few rows away from him, by the tomatoes. They were heavy and ripe. She should have plucked them a week ago, but with the Games and her mother, there just wasn't time this year.

"You can help yourself to whatever you want," she told him.

"Won't your father-?"

Madge silenced him with a wave of her hand. "My father never comes out here. I don't think he even knows we have a garden."

"Oh," said Gale. She glanced up to see him pushing up a mound of fertilizer with the toe of his boot. He wasn't here to talk about some stupid garden. She knew that, but it was easier to discuss vegetables. They were both just postponing the inevitable. She didn't mind.

"So who planted all of this?" asked Gale. "One of your maids?"

"I did."

* * *

Gale's head snapped up. "You?" he said, not bothering to hide his surprise. He took another look around the garden, wondering how much work it must've taken. Hours and hours of kneeling in the dirt with an aching back.

"It was my...mother's idea," said Madge. "We used to work out here together."

"Used to," repeated Gale, turning his eyes back to her just in time to catch her wincing. That was all he needed to confirm his suspicions. "That was your mother, wasn't it? The woman who-"

"Yeah," said Madge. She snapped a tomato from its vine and rolled it between her palms, pressing her thumbs into its skin until the juice gushed out, trickling over her hands. She didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were fixed on the second-story window she'd been standing in a few minutes ago.

* * *

"What's wrong with her?" asked Gale.

"Nothing," said Madge, tearing her eyes from the window. She lied out of habit.

"Bullshit," said Gale. "Rule fifteen, no lying to each other."

"You mean rule eleven," she said, letting go of the tomato. It splattered at her feet. She'd written all of their rules in the moleskine journal where she kept all her notes on the Games. "Rule fifteen is-"

"Whatever," said Gale, cutting her short. "Forget about the rules, Undersee."

"You brought it up," she muttered.

* * *

Gale rolled his eyes. He was tired of tiptoeing around the truth. "Why'd you come out here if you're not going to explain anything?" he demanded.

"Why'd you come upstairs?" she threw back at him. "I told you to stay."

"I'm not a dog," he said, shrugging. "You screamed and I-"

"You what?" she snapped. "You thought it was okay to just go snooping around my house?"

"I wasn't snooping! You screamed and…" And what? Gale didn't know how to explain himself. He didn't fully understand his actions to begin with. He kicked at the dirt, annoyed with himself and this whole situation. Madge Undersee's problems had nothing to do with him. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he said in a rush. "There, are you happy now?"

"No," said Madge. "I'm not happy."

* * *

She was never happy. She didn't even remember what it felt like to be happy. Her stomach ached with the unfairness of it all. Everyone she loved, or dared to get close to, was taken from her. When she looked at Gale, a part of her was always surprised that he was still there.

"How much did you see?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"Enough," said Gale.

 _Too much_ , thought Madge.

"You don't have to tell me," he said after another long pause. "Just don't lie about it, okay? Don't treat me like I'm stupid, because if we're going to-"

"I want to tell you," blurted Madge. Suddenly it didn't matter that he'd leave her someday. This was temporary, she accepted that. _Rule four, after the Games we forget this ever happened._ She'd underlined that one three times. But the Games weren't over, Katniss wasn't safe, and Madge was in over her head, drowning in secrets and lies with a fake smile stuck to her face.

"Well, I'm listening," said Gale. "You've got my full attention, so go ahead."

She didn't have a clue where to begin. She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, closed it again, then turned her back on him. If she was going to do this, she needed to sit down first. She retreated into the shade of an old oak tree, to the swing, which was just a plank of a wood suspended between two lines of rope.

* * *

Gale leaned against the trunk of the oak tree and studied Madge's profile in the dappled sunlight slipping through the leaves. She was biting the inside of her cheek, eyes closed, forehead creased. He was still waiting for her to continue, his patience all but gone. She'd said she wanted to tell him, so why wasn't she?

He realized that he was going to have to drag the truth out of her. "In your interview, you mentioned that your mother was sick," he said. It wasn't a big secret that the mayor's wife was unwell. No one had seen her in years. There were all kinds of rumors, but he'd never paid much attention to them.

"She's always been sick," said Madge, her eyes still closed. "It's not a physical thing. It's…" She trailed off for a moment. "It's complicated. It's…" She filled her cheeks with air, blew it out, and opened her eyes to look at him. "You remember the pin I gave Katniss?"

"Of course I do," said Gale. "What's that got to do-?"

"It's my mom's. I stole it."

"Okay," he said slowly. She wasn't making any sense. "So your mom was trying to kill you, because you

stole some stupid pin?"

"She wasn't trying to kill me," snapped Madge.

"What would you call beating someone over the head with a fire poker?"

"She never-"

"She would've," said Gale. "If your maid hadn't jumped in the way."

Madge kicked hard at the ground. "It's not like that," she said. "You don't know anything, so shut up."

"Only if you start talking."

"I _am_ talking. You interrupted-"

"Do it faster," he said, interrupting her again. "Stop thinking so hard."

* * *

He was right. She'd never get through this if she didn't stop thinking about the risks, and doubts, and fear of exposure. If she was going to tell him, she needed to let go, so she did. Her stomach lurched and the words she'd swallowed down her whole life flew like projectile vomit from her mouth.

"My aunt was sixteen when she was Reaped for the last Quarter Quell. She was allies with Haymitch Abernathy for a while. He...he was the one who brought back the mockingjay pin. It was her token. I gave it to Katniss, because I thought he might recognize it. And if he did, I thought, maybe he'd do more to help her win. Maybe he'd remember Maysilee and-"

* * *

It was too much too fast. Gale held up his hands to stop her. "Maysilee?" he said.

"My aunt," said Madge. "That was her name."

"Your mom called you May."

"She gets us confused. We look alike. It's funny, they were twins, but you'd never guess it. They weren't identical twins. They were fraternal twins, which means they didn't look-"

She was rambling again. "I know what fraternal twins are," said Gale. He'd never heard about Mrs. Undersee's sister, but that wasn't unusual. District Twelve had only ever had two victors. No one talked about the ones that didn't come home. It was like they never existed. To him, that had always been the saddest part about the Games. All of the children lost to history, their memories too painful to carry.

"Right, sorry," said Madge. "Any way, my mother never got over it. Losing her sister. I don't know if there's some special bond between twins, but when Maysilee died, some part of her died too. It didn't used to be so bad. Then I turned twelve and she couldn't handle it, the thought of my name being drawn for Games. It's like the past finally caught up to her and she got stuck there. She thinks I'm her sister. She thinks…"

"That it's going to happen all over again," Gale finished for her.

* * *

Madge nodded. Her body sagged in the swing. Now that the truth was out, just hanging there in the air, she felt naked.

"Does Katniss know?" asked Gale.

"Not exactly," admitted Madge. "We never talked about it, but when things started getting bad, and none of the doctors in Town knew what was wrong with her, my dad went to Katniss' mom. Not that Mrs. Everdeen was any help. It was after the accident in the mines, so…"

Gale winced and she knew what he was thinking about. She regretted even mentioning the accident that had killed both his and Katniss' fathers, so she hurried on. "Katniss must have overheard them talking, though, because the next day was the first time we ate lunch together. She doesn't know about Maysilee or the pin. I wanted to explain it to her, but there wasn't enough time."

It was her turn to wait for a response. Her turn to be impatient. She couldn't look at Gale for too long, but she stole a glance at every couple of seconds. He was staring pensively at the lowest hanging branch above his head, his dark brows knit together. She'd spewed a great deal of information in a span of seconds. He needed time to process, but time was agony.

"I've never told anyone," said Madge just to fill the silence. "About Maysilee or my mother."

Gale lowered his gaze. There was no trace of pity on his face. No dark clouds of confusion left in his clear, gray eyes. "Why are you telling me?" he asked.

"You asked," said Madge. It was simple, really, when she didn't think so hard. "And I figured there was no getting rid of you, not after everything you saw today. Just don't tell anyone, please."

Gale's smile was exasperated, but it flooded her with a peculiar warmth all the same. "I can keep a secret, Undersee," he said. "Trust me."

"I do," she said without meaning to. It was like she couldn't stop the truth from coming out now that she'd started, only this truth was a surprise even to herself.

* * *

Out of everything she'd just told him, Gale was most caught off guard by her whispered, "I do." It was strange to share a secret with the mayor's daughter. Just like when she'd given him that damned peanut butter and jelly sandwich, he felt obligated to give her something in return, but his only secret was how he felt about Katniss and he wasn't ready to share that with anyone.

"There's just one thing I don't understand," he said instead. "Why did Mrs. Everdeen recognize the pin?"

"She used to be friends with Maysilee and my mother," said Madge.

"Oh."

Silence. Always silence. Madge was biting her cheek again and he wondered if she already regretted telling him all of this. He pushed off of the tree trunk and bridged the distance between them. "Budge over," he said, tapping her foot with his.

* * *

Madge scooted over as far as the wooden plank would allow. When he sat down beside her, the swing rocked and she curled her fingers around the rope to keep from falling backwards. She waited for the ropes to snap under their combined weight. There was less than an inch of space between them. She folded her arm in her lap to keep from touching his.

Gale dug his heels into the earth and pushed off. The ropes creaked, but continued to hold, and as they picked up speed, Madge stopped worrying. She closed her eyes against the hot, summer air whooshing past them. Her toes just barely skimmed the ground and she wished she was barefoot, so that she could feel the grass tickle her skin. For a moment, she felt like a child again. She felt like she was flying away from it all. Away from the past, from her mother, from the Games, and the Capitol, and all of the things she couldn't change.

Then, without any warning, the swing jerked to a stop. She tipped forward from the momentum

* * *

Gale wrapped his arm around Madge's waist to keep her from falling face first into the dirt. Hissing, she leapt to her feet.

"Sorry," he muttered, his hand dropping to the now empty space beside him.

"Don't apologize," she said, sounding pained. "You didn't do anything." He noticed the way she held her stomach and frowned, piecing two and two together.

"She hit you, didn't she?" he said. The way she tightened her arms around her waist was answer enough.

"I told you, she doesn't understand."

"Undersee-"

"She doesn't know what's she doing," she said, her hands fluttering nervously. "She doesn't mean to. She's just scared, that's all. And confused, and-"

Gale swung forward a little and caught both of her hands in his. She tried to pull away, but he didn't let her. Again he remembered her cowering on the floor, helpless and hopeless. It wasn't fair. Town or Seam, no one deserved to be afraid of their own mother. His hatred towards the Capitol, always simmering under his skin, flared up. Like everything else, Madge Undersee's pain was their fault.

"Does your dad know?" he asked.

Madge snorted. "He's her husband, so yeah."

"I mean does he know that she hurts you?"

* * *

Madge tore her hands from his and stepped out of his grasp. She didn't want to talk about her father. She'd spilled more than enough of their family's sordid secrets for one night. "It's nothing I can't handle on my own," she said shortly. Before he could push the matter, she continued, "It's getting late. You should probably go now."

"Alright," said Gale, to her relief. He stood, but didn't move any further. Something seemed to be holding him there. "Just tell me one more thing before I go. Are you safe?"

There was nothing funny about the question. She laughed because she didn't know what else to do. Gale's scowl deepened.

"I'm serious," he said. "That was bad, what happened in there today."

And just like that the laughter died. She didn't need Gale Hawthorne to tell her how bad things were. Still, she was touched, and a little frightened, by his concern. She hadn't told him about her mother to add another worry to his already too long of a list. To spare them both, she reverted to the lies.

"I'm safe," she said.

* * *

Gale wasn't satisfied by her answer, but she didn't give him a chance to argue. "I really have to go," she said, backing further away. "I've got...stuff to do." Her head bowed, she limped to the gate.

Gale trailed after her. He'd far overstayed his welcome as it was. At the back door, Madge paused for a second. "Thanks," she said. "For letting me know about Katniss." Then she was gone. The lock clicked. Just like that, he found himself on the outside once more, left wondering if the past few hours had really happened.

* * *

Madge didn't have the heart to catch up on the Games. Katniss was awake and she wanted to leave it at that for now. Tomorrow, there'd be plenty of time for more of the same nail-biting anxiety. She kicked off her shoes as soon as she made it to her room and crawled under the bed covers fully clothed. She pulled them all the way over her head, burrowing as deep as she could into the neatly tucked sheets, that were crisp and cool against her skin.

Sleep was all she needed. A few hours of rest and she'd be good as new. Her eyes wouldn't close, though. She listened for a knock, a scream, another disaster. _Are you safe?_ It was such a stupid question. No one was safe in this world. Not Katniss or Peeta Mellark. Not Primrose Everdeen or Gale's siblings. Whether you were Town or Seam, there was no difference. Your life could still be snuffed out in the blink of an eye, your heart broken in even less time.

Madge anticipated that there would come a day when Gale Hawthorne broke her heart. It was a risk she had to take, because being alone wasn't working anymore. It never really had.

* * *

Through the open kitchen window, Gale could hear the clatter of wooden plates and Rory's bossy voice, ordering Vick around. They were _both_ supposed to be clearing the dinner table, but Rory was probably too busy barking commands to do any actual washing. Then again, Gale had done the same thing to him when they were younger, before Vick could walk and before Posy was even born. He remembered what Rory used to call him. _General Hawthorne._

"Go watch the Games," his mother said through a mouthful of clothes pins. "I can finish up." There were still three full baskets of wet laundry to hang and only half an hour left of daylight.

"It's alright, Ma," said Gale as he pinned yet another pair of washed-out, gray slacks to the line. To be honest, he didn't want to watch the Games tonight. Though he couldn't say that his time at the mayor's house had been an enjoyable experience, it'd been nice not to think about the arena for a few hours. He wasn't ready to go back yet.

He wanted to ask his mother if she remembered Maysilee Donner, but he'd promised Madge to keep her secret, and his mother would definitely want to know why he was asking about a tribute from nearly twenty-five years ago. He tried to picture her and it was always Madge Undersee in her Reaping dress, wearing the mockingjay pin, that came to mind. _It won't be you,_ he'd told her that day, but it could have been. Would that have been better? If Madge's name had been drawn instead of Katniss'?

Gale shook his head. That wasn't a road he wanted to go down. It all made sense now, why the mayor's daughter and a nobody girl from the Seam were friends. Katniss and Madge were both orphans with living parents. He paused to watch his own mother, her lined face softened by the twilight.

"Thank you," he blurted.

"For what?" she asked.

"Just...for everything. Keeping us alive, you know."

His mother chuckled. "That's a mother's job," she said, shrugging. Then she gestured to the clothes pins piled at his feet. "Hand me some more of those."

As Gale passed them to her, he was overcome with the urge to throw his arms around her, so he did. Maybe it was a mother's job to keep her children alive, but not every mother lived up to her responsibilities. He'd never been so grateful to have one who did.

"What's gotten into you?" his mother asked when he pulled away.

"Nothing," said Gale. He reached for another shirt to hang. "I love you, that's all."

* * *

 **Ex2See:** As of now, I do not intend to kill Madge. I've got a lot of future stuff planned out. Events will be canon throughout The hunger Games, but after that things are going to get real AU. As always, thanks for your reviews!


	12. Sing Me to Sleep

**AN:** My heart breaks for Rue every single time.

* * *

"I think, no matter where you be, you'll hold me in your memory."

Dorothy Parker

Madge had bitten her nails down to the bleeding quick. She neither noticed nor cared. Rue was struggling to light the second fire, her hands were shaking so hard. _You can do this,_ Madge thought at the little girl. After just a few agonizing seconds, a spark caught. The camera closed in on Rue's proud, smiling face for half a moment, and then panned out to follow a tendril of smoke above the tree line.

"And there they go," said Claudius Templesmith when the scene shifted to the three remaining Careers, plunging into the woods, drawn by the smoke. By the time they reached the fire, Rue would be long gone. She was quicker than them. Still, Madge wished the Gamemakers would show the little girl again, just to be sure.

Instead they tuned in on Katniss, hiding in the bushes at the edge of the cornucopia clearing. She was watching the boy from Three, left behind to guard the supplies. It'd be easy to take him out now, but Katniss hesitated, her arrow drawn. _You can do this,_ Madge thought again. _You have to do this._ There wasn't any time to waste. The boy from Three wandered to the tail end of the bronze horn and Katniss shifted her aim. She pulled back the bowstring, took a deep breath, and…

The red-headed, fox-faced girl from Five darted out of the woods less than fifteen feet from where Katniss was hiding. She leapt nimbly from one patch of grass to the next, avoiding the landmines which the Careers had reburied around the the cornucopia. It wasn't the first time Madge had seen her do this. She admired the girl's daring and ingenuity, but hated her for getting in the way now. It took her less than a minute to reach the horn, snatch up a handful of dried meat, and disappear once more between the trees, but not before the boy from Three spotted her and gave chase.

The camera returned to Katniss, whose brow was furrowed in contemplation. Madge knew what she was thinking. She saw Katniss' eyes light up with sudden understanding. Without warning, she swung her bow around and fired. Her arrow clattered against the cornucopia and rolled to the ground. The next one lodged deep into a rolled up sleeping bag. By the third shot, Madge realized what Katniss was trying to do. Holding her breath, she leaned so far forward in her chair that she nearly fell out onto the floor.

The arrow struck a netted bag close to the top of the Career's stockpile. Red apples, gleaming in the fading sunlight, burst free from the bag and rained down in slow motion. Then the first one hit the ground. Madge was convinced she could feel the shockwaves from the explosion from two thousand miles away.

* * *

As soon as the last of the landmines went off, the television screen had gone black. Gale didn't know if Katniss had made it out, though he'd assured Prim that she had. _Of course she made it out,_ he thought, alone now in the meadow. Katniss would surely have returned to her little, fire-setting ally. He didn't want to consider any other alternative, but he couldn't help himself. There'd been so much smoke, making it impossible to see anything after the first explosion.

"She made it out," he said aloud, hitting the ground with his fist. It was too late to seek out Madge for confirmation. He wondered if she was still awake, still watching. First thing in the morning, he'd go to her house. Waiting to talk to her at lunch would mean waiting too long with the not-knowing eating him alive.

Gale looked to the east, searching for the sunrise though it was still hours in the distance.

* * *

Madge had no reason to believe that Gale would be at the meadow, at this late hour, but that didn't stop her from hoping. She found her way easily enough through the Seam by the silver-blue light of the full moon. It was funny. There was no moon in the arena. She hated the thought of Katniss cowering under a bush, in absolute darkness, but it was better that way. If she had to spend the night on the outskirts of the Careers' camp, a total black-out was like a gift from the Gamemakers. It would keep Katniss hidden and slow the Careers' return.

Madge was so distracted by thoughts of the Games, that she reached the meadow without quite remembering how she'd gotten there. She stopped at the edge. The grass rippled, a dark ocean at midnight, the moonlight washing all the green from the world. A wave of nausea rolled through her, but then she saw him, the only steady thing in a sea of grass.

* * *

Gale thought he imagined Madge Undersee calling his name, but then he tore his eyes from the horizon and saw her wading out to him. He still didn't quite believe she was there until she was standing right in front of him. "What're you doing out here?" he asked, blinking up at her.

"Same as you," she said. "Thinking about Katniss."

"It's the middle of the night, Undersee," he said.

Madge cast him a droll, lopsided smile and then dropped down beside him. "Thanks," she said. "I was wondering where the sun had got to."

She was such a smart ass sometimes. He didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed. Before he figured it out, she spoke again, suddenly sincere. "I was hoping you'd be here," she admitted. "Did you see it?"

Gale didn't need to ask what she meant by _it._ "Right up to the explosion," he said. "Did she make it out alright?"

Madge looked away, frowning, and his stomach dropped. Then he remembered that if something truly terrible had happened, she'd probably have told him right away. If Katniss was dead, she wouldn't be making smart ass comments about the sun.

"She's alright," said Madge, "But she didn't make it out. I think the explosion did something to her ears. She threw up a few times."

Gale winced. He didn't give himself time to agonize over Katniss' latest injury. "And the Careers?" he asked.

* * *

"Cato killed the boy from Eight as soon as they got back. Broke his neck. Bare handed." Madge shivered at the memory. She could still hear the snap. "I don't think they'll be able to find Katniss, though," she rushed on. "Not tonight. It's too dark."

Gale made a sound that was somewhere between a grunt and a cough. She didn't know how to interpret it. For a while they were quiet, both of them thinking about Katniss.

"What about the little girl?" he asked.

"Who?" said Madge, taken by surprise.

* * *

"The one from Eleven," said Gale. He couldn't bring himself to say her name aloud. Asking about her at all was stupid.

"Rue?" said Madge.

He cringed at the name. "Yeah, her," he said.

"Alive, as far as I know."

Gale felt a flood of relief, followed immediately by guilt, then pure outrage. He didn't want Rue to die. He didn't even really want Peeta Mellark to die. Or the boy from Eight. Or any of them. He hated himself almost as much as he hated the Capitol, for praying for their deaths, not in words, but silently in his heart.

Only when Madge placed a gentle touch to his arm, did he realize that his fists were clenched in his lap.

"Don't think about it," she said. She was doing that _thing_ , reading him like one of her banned books. "It won't change anything," she went on in a whisper, even though only the tree frogs were listening. She was wearing a face he hadn't seen before, not on her. Steel in her gaze, defiance in the way she thrust her shoulders back. "Remember who to blame."

Gale leaned towards her. "Who?" he asked.

"You know," she said, removing her hand from his arm. "But I'll give you a hint. It's not you."

Knowing she was right didn't make the truth any less bitter. He stretched out on the ground, his arms folded behind his head, and stared up at the moon. Its light was blinding and soon he turned his eyes back to Madge, hugging her knees to her chest. She didn't look real, her pale skin glowing, making her almost transparent, a ghost. But then she laid down beside him, so close that he could feel the faintest trace of warmth rolling off of her skin.

"Stop staring at me," she said, without turning her head.

* * *

The tree frogs were singing a lullaby. The grass was soft underneath her. She felt safe, here in the meadow, with Gale Hawthorne. Safe enough to let her eyes close and her heartbeat slow. This silence wasn't like any of the others that had passed between them. It was the kind she shared with Katniss. Comfortable, calming, confidential.

Madge hadn't slept longer than a few hours at a time since Reaping Day. Her fatigue finally caught up to her. She didn't bother to try fighting it. She didn't even care that Gale was still staring at her.

* * *

Gale rolled onto his side, his head propped up on his elbow. "Are you falling asleep?" he asked. Madge didn't answer, which he supposed was an answer in itself. Her breathing was deep and easy, her expression soft and untroubled. He knew he should wake her up, but couldn't. She was always so tightly wound, so serious even when she was teasing him. Right now, though, she could've passed for any ordinary sixteen year old girl. Not the mayor's daughter, not her mother's keeper, and not Katniss' champion. Just a girl.

Gale flipped onto his back again. He'd let her sleep for a few minutes. If the dark circles under her eyes were any indicator, she needed the rest.

* * *

Madge was having the strangest dream. She was chasing Katniss through the woods, or she was being chased. It was impossible to tell. The treetops were on fire. Embers rained down on her. They burned cold on her skin like snowflakes. Katniss was calling her name.

"Wait," Madge yelled back at her. "Wait, I don't know where you are."

* * *

Gale had almost drifted off himself when Madge curled into him. Her fingers tangled in his shirt. She burrowed her face against his neck. "Wait," she mumbled, "Please don't go." He felt her lips move against his skin, just below his ear, and his stomach muscles clenched.

"Undersee, wake up," he said. She nestled closer to him, tightening her grip, her chest pressed to his shoulder, and one of her legs thrown over his. "Undersee," he said again, louder, giving his shoulder a little shake.

Suddenly, she shot up, breathing hard as if she'd just been running. "Katniss," she said, turning her head from side to side, her blue eyes, still glazed over with sleep, searching the moonlit meadow. Gale knelt in front of her. He grabbed hold of her shoulders and squeezed them until she looked at him. A flicker of disappointment crossed over her face as the last of her dream slipped away.

"I thought…" She trailed off, lowering her abashed gaze to his chest. "Just a dream."

Gale let go of her shoulders and stood. He held out his hand to her. "Come on," he said. "Let's get you to bed."

* * *

Neither of them spoke again until they came to the edge of the Seam. Madge was still reeling from her dream. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was supposed to be looking for something, someone, lost.

"I can make it from here," she said. "Thanks." She took another step, but Gale caught hold of her arm, bringing her to a stop.

"Do you want to watch the Games with me?" he asked.

"What?"

"Tomorrow, after school," he said. "I figured it just makes sense. To watch together, you know." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean, if you don't want to, I'll understand. It was just an idea, but you probably want to be with your family and-"

Madge snorted.

"With your dad," added Gale hurriedly.

"He doesn't watch," she said.

"Well, if you want to be alone, that's-"

"Your house or mine?" she interrupted him. She didn't want to watch alone anymore. Gale didn't say anything for a long time. A crease formed between his dark brows and she worried he already regretted asking. Maybe he'd expected her to refuse. Maybe he was just trying to be polite.

* * *

Gale hadn't considered whose house they'd watch at when he'd asked her. He hadn't considered much of anything, other than that it was ridiculous for them to watch the Games apart. After all, they were allies. Still, her question threw everything into perspective. _Your house or mine?_ He wasn't eager to return to the mayor's house after his last visit, which left only one alternative.

"I guess mine," he said. "If that's alright with you." He'd intruded on her home. It was only fair to let her into his, even if the thought made him slightly nauseous.

"You're scared of my mother," said Madge. It wasn't a question. There was no point denying it.

"A little, yeah," he admitted. "Sorry."

"It's okay," she said with a half-hearted shrug. "I am, too, sometimes." Gale wasn't sure how to respond. He didn't need to. Madge continued. "I'll have to go home after school. To check in."

"Right, of course," he said. "So I'll, um...I'll meet you here. Three o'clock?"

"Okay," she said.

"Okay," he repeated. It was settled. So then why did he feel so very unsettled?

* * *

By this point, Madge had lost count of how many times she'd changed. She kicked at the heap of discarded outfits on the floor. This was stupid. She'd be late. Besides, Gale wouldn't notice what she was wearing. But it wasn't him she was worried about. What if his family was there? What if someone from school saw her? What if Embry Royce saw her? Going into the Seam was a lot more intimidating in broad daylight than the dark of night or during school and work hours.

She faced the mirror on the off-chance that she might approve of what she was wearing after a second look. The outfit was simple enough: a white, short sleeve button down tucked into a dark blue, polka dotted skirt that flared just below the knee. Maybe it was too simple. Or maybe it wasn't simple at all. She only wanted to blend in, but everything she owned seemed extravagant compared to what she saw the Seam kids wear.

"It looks like a bomb went off in here," said Nedy. Startled, Madge spun around, almost slipping over a silk shirt tangled around her feet.

"You're here," said Madge, gaping at the woman leaning against the frame of the bedroom door.

"It's my day to work, isn't it?" said Nedy.

"I didn't think…" Madge's eyes flicked to the faded scratch marks across Neddy's neck. "After the other day, well, I just didn't think you'd come back."

Nedy inspected her with Seam gray eyes just as penetrating as Katniss' or Gale's. "Your mother's a terror," she said after a moment. "But the money's too good to give up."

Madge flushed at Nedy's bluntness. It was so different from the politely deferential tone she was used to from the household staff.

"I thought about quitting," said Nedy, stepping further into the room. She bent down to pick a pleated black skirt off of the floor. "My husband thinks I should."

"I wouldn't blame you," said Madge. "We'll give you ample compensation for your-"

Nedy cut her short with a chuckle. "You talk like some big-shot businessman," she said, rolling her eyes. "Sometimes I forget you're younger than me." Her expression turned serious. Almost sad. "But you're just a kid, really. I think sometimes you forget that."

Madge didn't know what to say. She chafed at being called a _kid._

"I'm not gonna quit on you, Miss," said Nedy firmly. "I'm here as long as you want me."

"Thank you," said Madge, so touched that she could barely force out the word.

"So," said Nedy, eyeing the clothes on the floor. "What's the big occasion?"

"There isn't one," said Madge too quickly. Nedy rose an eyebrow at her. "I'm just going to watch the Games with a...friend." Gale was not her _friend_ , but calling him her _ally_ would to take too much time explaining.

"You mean the Hawthorne boy," said Nedy.

"How did you know-?

Nedy waved off the rest of her question. "I asked around," she said. "He's got something of a reputation. I'd be careful around him, if I were you."

The blush in Madge's cheeks spread across her entire body. "It's not like that," she said, flustered. "We're not...There's nothing...We're just…"

"Both friends with Katniss Everdeen," Nedy finished for her. "You don't have to explain yourself to me, Miss. It's just, I've got a sister your age. I _was_ your age. It's a risky business, being a sixteen year old girl, and from what I've heard this Hawthorne is the love'em and leave'em sort."

"I know what he is," snapped Madge. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, though, she realized they weren't true. She used to think she knew what sort of person Gale Hawthorne was. A prejudiced jerk who couldn't go ten seconds without passing judgment on her. But that wasn't the same boy who'd let her fall asleep in the meadow last night or invited her to watch the Games with him today.

"As long as you know," said Nedy. "Sit down. I'll do your hair."

Madge did as she was told. Nedy combed her hair into three sections and set about braiding them together. Her fingers brushed over Madge's scalp. She'd clearly done this a thousand times before, probably with her own sister. It felt nice, soothing. Her mother was the last person who'd braided her hair for her, on her first Reaping Day.

"There," said Nedy, stepping back to admire her handiwork. "You're good to go now."

"Thanks," said Madge again. She curled the end of the braid around her finger as she took one last good look at herself in the mirror.

* * *

Gale paced restlessly along the boundary between Town and Seam as he waited for Madge. She was late. Only by a few minutes, but it was enough time for his doubts to creep in. She wouldn't come. It was better if she didn't. He'd skipped school again to clean the house from top to bottom. No amount of scrubbing could clean away all of the coal dust. He'd done his best. Still, he anticipated that as soon as she stepped over the threshold, she'd run screaming in horror all the way back to her big, fancy house with its white, picket fence and gleaming countertops.

Then he saw her jogging towards him and his worries were blown clear from his mind. "Sorry I'm late," she huffed, skidding to halt. _It's fine,_ he wanted to say. The words stuck in his throat. His eyes fixed on her braided hair. He'd never seen her wear it that way. The way Katniss did. Before he realized what he was doing, he reached out and caught the end of her braid, rubbing her soft hair between his calloused fingers, like he'd imagined doing to Katniss so many times.

Then, with a shock, he remembered himself, remembered that this was Madge Undersee he was touching, and let his hand drop.

* * *

Madge wasn't sure what had just happened or why she felt hot all of a sudden, despite the cool breeze.

* * *

"We're going to miss the broadcast," said Gale brusquely, deciding to pretend that he hadn't done what he'd just done. To his relief, Madge went along with him.

"Lead the way," she said, gesturing towards the Seam.

* * *

Standing in Gale Hawthorne's living room, Madge was struck by how odd it was that she hadn't been in another person's house since Delly Cartwright's thirteenth birthday party. She remembered Peeta being there as well. He'd brought the cake, a three tiered work of art almost too pretty to eat. She also remembered standing alone in the corner, watching everyone else laugh and dance.

Gale lingered near the door, his arms crossed, a queasy look on his face. It was obvious he was uncomfortable with her being here, but she was surprisingly at ease. The room was small, the wood floors scuffed and worn from years of heavy foot traffic, the only furniture a sagging couch and a rough-hewn coffee table. She ran her fingers over a hand-knit afghan draped over the back of the couch. When Gale cleared his throat, she withdrew her hand.

"It's not much," he said.

Madge turned to smile at him. Dust motes swirled between them in the warm yellow sunlight streaming in from the open window. "It's perfect," she said.

* * *

Gale snorted. She was just being polite. He wished she wouldn't. "It's a shit hole," he said.

"No, really," said Madge. She spun around, drinking in the room, her eyes falling on everything: Vick's homework scattered across the table, their rainboots in a row by the door. Her gaze stopped on the black and white wedding photo of his parents in its tarnished silver frame on the mantel. She crossed the room for a better look. Gale stayed where he was. He'd spent countless hours pouring over that photo, the only one they had of his father.

* * *

Madge knew who the two people in the picture were without having to ask. The man couldn't have been much older than Gale was now. The resemblance between the two of them was unmistakable. The same broad shoulders and straight nose. The same lips, though the man's in the photo were turned up into a carefree smile, something she'd never seen on his son's face.

"They look so happy," said Madge. "And young."

"They were," grunted Gale. Before either of them could say anymore, the front door swung open. Madge, ashamed of her unconcealed curiosity, leapt away from the mantel.

"Has it started yet?" said Rory, striding into the room. If he was surprised to find her there, he hid it well. Without waiting for either of them to answer, he flipped on the television. The sound of static filled the room. "Damn thing," he muttered as he wiggled around the antennae held to the top of the TV by duct tape.

"Watch it," said Gale. "We've got company."

Rory glanced at Madge and jerked his head by way of a greeting, before turning his full attention back to the antennae.

"Ignore him," said Gale as he settled down onto the couch.

* * *

"You can sit," said Gale after a few minutes of watching Madge wring her hands together and listening to Rory's muttered curses. She moved to the couch, stepping lightly, like she was afraid that the floor was going to open up and swallow her whole. If he wasn't so uncomfortable by her presence, here in his house, he might have been amused.

The couch creaked when she lowered herself onto the other end and he winced. He was certain the mayor's couches never creaked. They probably weren't hard and lumpy either. She perched on the very edge and drummed her fingers against her knees. He was about to offer her a glass of water or...water was all he had to give...when Rory let out a victory yelp and Claudius Templesmith's voice crackled through the speakers.

Madge stopped drumming. She leaned forward, her eyes instantly glued to the screen, where the girl from Five stood at the edge of the cornucopia clearing, laughing like she'd gone mad. Everything that wasn't the arena fell away. He stopped worrying about what Madge Undersee thought about his creaky couch. Rory dropped into the empty space between them. It was a tight fit, but none of them cared.

* * *

The three of them watched in silence. For the most part. Every once and a while, Rory made a comment that neither Madge nor Gale felt inclined to respond to. For the first hour, there was absolutely no sign of Katniss. Cato and Clove were on the hunt, but they weren't having much luck. The longer they searched, the more frustrated and reckless they became. Katniss knew how to cover her tracks.

"They'll never find her," said Rory, a note of pride in his voice.

Madge hoped he was right. Still, she was anxious for the Gamemakers to find Katniss. Every face that flashed across the screen that wasn't her friend's filled her with dread and disappointment. What if something had happened already? What if some other tribute had found her…?

Then there she was. The knot in Madge's chest loosened for a fraction of a second. Katniss was slinking through the trees. Her ear was caked with dried blood. She paused and whistled the four notes she and Rue had agreed on to communicate with each other. The mockingjays took up the song, sending it further than Katniss could.

Madge held her breath, waiting for Rue's return call. It never came. Instead a shrill scream burst from the speakers. Immediately, the mockingjays fell silent and Katniss took off at a run, crying out Rue's name at the top of her lungs, without a care in the world that the Careers might hear her.

* * *

Gale clutched the arm of the couch. _Shut up, shut up,_ he thought as Katniss screamed Rue's name over and over again. _You idiot, shut up._ She screamed louder, running headlong into some unknown danger. Foolish, thoughtless, selfless. All of the reasons he loved her.

Despite his irritation at her recklessness, Gale let out a sigh of relief when she crashed into a little clearing and found the girl from Eleven thrashing furiously in the snare of a net. Katniss dropped to her knees before coming to a full stop, her knife already in hand. As soon as the rope was cut, she lifted Rue off of the ground.

"It's okay," she said, drawing the girl into her arms. "See, it's okay." Holding Rue by the shoulders, her eyes raked over her from head to foot, checking for wounds. Gale did the same. There wasn't a scratch on the girl. She was trembling, her dark brown, doe-like eyes full of fear.

"You're safe," said Katniss. "You're sa-"

* * *

It all happened so fast. There wasn't even time to blink. One of the Careers, the boy from District One, appeared from nowhere.

"No!" Madge cried out, but it was Rue who alerted Katniss to the danger behind her.. Too late. Before Katniss even began to turn, Marvel threw the spear. Without thinking, Madge's hand shot out and grabbed the nearest thing, Rory Hawthorne.

Katniss ducked just in time. She released the bowstring just as the spear soared over her head.

* * *

Arrow and spear struck at the exactly the same time. The boy from One hit the ground first, dead on impact. Rue remained standing. She stared down at the spear lodged deep in her stomach, her fear replaced by an expression of mild shock that was so much worse. It was the expression Prim had made on Reaping Day when her name was called. The look of a child confronted by their mortality far too soon. In the second it took Rue's knees to give out, he saw her entire life flash past, an indistinct blur of images borrowed from his memories of Posy and Prim.

Katniss caught the little girl before she hit the ground. That was the last thing Gale saw before tearing his eyes away. He couldn't bare to watch the end or listen to Katniss sobbing, "you're okay, you're okay," as if she could make it okay if she only said it enough times.

* * *

The door slammed behind Gale. Madge didn't so much as blink. She didn't look after him. Her only concern was committing Rue's face to memory. These were her last moments and they would scar Katniss for the rest of her life, however long that may be. As much as Madge wanted to close her eyes, shut it all out, she forced herself to watch, to share Katniss' pain.

"Can you sing?" whispered Rue.

Katniss sang. Her voice was thick with snot and tears, but it was still the most beautiful sound Madge had ever heard. She felt it rising up from her own chest. _Deep in the meadow, under the willow._ Rue's face had gone gray, the color withering from her cheeks. _Lay down your head and close your sleepy eyes._ The light was swiftly fading from Rue's eyes. _And when again they open, the sun will rise._ Rue was gone. Just like that.

Rory squeezed Madge's hand. Such a simple gesture, she crumbled under it. When Katniss' song came to an end, even the mockingjays echo of it, the scene switched abruptly to the boy from Eleven, oblivious to his tribute mate's death. Rory untangled his fingers from hers, crossed the room, and turned off the TV. He kept his face turned away from her, trying to hide his tears, but she caught a glimpse of them before he swept his arm across his eyes.

"You should go after him," he said. "Before he does something stupid." Then he left her. There came the sound of another slamming door.

* * *

Gale just had to make it to the woods. He needed to be lost, to hide, to break down. He reached the end of the street, though, and realized that he wouldn't make it there fast enough. Hot, stinging tears burned lines down his face and neck. Falling faster and harder by the second, there was nothing he could do to hold back the downpour of four years worth of repressed emotion.

The girl had to die. They all had to die. It was inevitable. But watching the little girl's life drain away, Gale had been struck hard by the deeper truth he'd been denying. None of them _had_ to die. It wasn't fate. It was senseless slaughter, a cruel and uncaring form of entertainment. That he shared this world with people who took enjoyment from the death of a child made him want to give up on the world altogether.

Gale didn't realize that he'd stopped moving until he heard approaching footsteps from behind. Madge called his name, but he didn't face her, didn't want her to see him this way.

* * *

Gale stood as immovable as stone in the middle of the road. Madge didn't know what to say. She felt like Rue had taken all of the words in the world with her to the grave. Not knowing what else to do, and not caring who saw her now, Madge wrapped her arms around Gale's waist, trying to hold the both of them together. She pressed her face against his back. He still didn't move, didn't acknowledge that she was there.

"Don't go," she said, her words muffled against his shirt. "Please."

* * *

He felt Madge trembling against him. _Don't go, please._ He couldn't go anywhere, even though all he wanted to do was run as far from this place as possible. She was holding him so tightly that he couldn't breathe. He didn't have the strength to shake her off. She was there, warm and alive, her heart pounding against his back. Her tears soaked through his shirt to his skin.

Gale put his hands over hers, locked in a death grip over his stomach. It wasn't fair. He still had his ally. Katniss had only a corpse. In that moment, it'd never been clearer to him that things could never go back to the way they'd been before. Rue would always haunt them.

* * *

 **Gale Lover:** Glad you enjoyed the whole scene with the oven! I was worried about that one, haha.

 **Ex2See:** I do plan to do all three books...sort of...but I shall tell you no more than that. You'll just have to keep reading to find out where this story goes :)

 **Cat:** Hello new cheerleader! I'll admit, I've been updating on a frenzy that probably won't last forever. But rest assured, I don't think my dedication to this story will burn out. Gale and Madge are just such interesting characters to work with!


	13. Money Can't Buy

"We give because someone gave to us. We give because no one gave to us."

Alberto Rios

Walking her home after the Games yesterday, Gale hadn't spoken a word. Not so much as _night, Undersee_ when they parted ways. Madge searched for him in the hallway between classes, even though she knew he wasn't likely to be there. She needed to see him, just for a second, to make sure he was alright and that he hadn't done something stupid after leaving her at the edge of Town.

"Who you looking for, Miss Mayor?"

Madge grimaced at the familiar nickname. "What do you want?" she said, turning around to find Embry leaning against the wall beside her.

"I asked who you're looking for," said Embry.

"No one." Madge hefted her bookbag higher onto her shoulder and dove into the rush of students hurrying to class. Gale, of course, wasn't among them.

"You sure about that?" asked Embry, falling into step beside her. _Ignore her,_ thought Madge. The girl was like a rattlesnake. If you didn't provoke her, she usually grew bored and slithered away. Not this time, though. "Because I thought, maybe, you were looking for Hawthorne. He's not here."

"I don't care," muttered Madge. She cared more than she'd ever admit to Embry Royce, or anyone else, herself included.

"Did the two of you have a lover's spat?" said Embry.

Madge stopped. "A what?" she said.

Embry rolled her eyes. "You're going out, right? Or..." She flashed a thin-lipped smile. "Did you break up?"

"We're not going out," said Madge. She was tired of having this conversation, first with Nedy and now Royce.

"So you did break up?"

"We were never together," said Madge. She started walking again at a quickened pace. Embry was unshakable.

"That's funny," she said. "Because Joan swears she saw the two of you together, just outside of his house. I told her it couldn't be true. Miss Mayor wouldn't be caught dead in the Seam."

"It's none of your business where I go," snapped Madge. As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized what a mistake they were. Embry's smile curdled. Her pupils narrowed to two venomous slits.

"He doesn't care about you," she hissed like the snake that she was. "Whatever he's told you, it's a load of bullshit."

"You don't know what you're talking about," said Madge, her temper boiling over. Rue was dead. A little girl who'd never hurt anyone in her life had been wiped out of existence, and Embry was going on about a relationship that had never existed and never would. Madge couldn't stomach it. Not today.

"I know him," said Embry. "Better than you do. As soon as he gets what he wants from you, that's the end of it."

"He didn't want you, though, did he?" said Madge. Embry looked as though she'd been slapped. So it was true. Gale did reject her. Madge knew it shouldn't matter to her, who he did or didn't fool around with, but her chest ballooned with sweet, warm satisfaction. For once, she walked away the victor.

Then Embry called out after her, "He's just using you," and the balloon burst.

* * *

Today, Gale hated the mockingjays. There was a flock of them perched in the tree he was sitting under. He took aim at the nearest one. His knife fell short by a good three feet and plummeted back down to earth, landing where his foot had been just a second ago. The mockingjays sang louder. Taunting him, reminding him.

The harder he tried not to think about Rue, the more he did.

* * *

 _He's just using you. Just using you. Using you._

Embry's words echoed in Madge's head. They burned like poison through her blood. They were dead wrong. If anyone was using anyone, Madge was using Gale. Apart from giving him one lousy sandwich and dumping her personal problems on his already full lap, she hadn't done anything for him.

Yesterday, walking her home, he'd never felt further away. Even before the Games, before they'd spent longer than five minutes alone together, Gale had always noticed her. Usually to tease her, or judge her, or scowl at her like she'd murdered his first born child. But yesterday, walking side by side, it was like she wasn't even there, like she was just as much a ghost to him as Rue.

Madge worried she'd done the wrong thing by following him. She should've given him space, instead of clinging to him so pathetically. She should've said something more than _don't go._ As an ally, she was the worst of the lot. As a human being, she wasn't much better. Rue was dead, but that wasn't what had kept Madge tossing and turning through the night. What tormented her most was her own fear of being alone again, the thought of being without an ally, like Katniss.

 _Absolutely selfish_ , she thought bitterly to herself as she approached the Hawthorne's front door. Someone was humming inside. Madge shifted the basket of food she'd brought from one hip to the other and raised her fist to knock, but couldn't bring herself to do it. Gale probably wouldn't want her here. She imagined him swinging open the door and looking right through her, the way he had yesterday, and then closing her out. _No one there,_ he'd say to his family. _Must've been the wind._

Besides, if he'd wanted to talk to her today, he would've found her. She didn't go anywhere besides school, or home, or the meadow. She'd waited for him there nearly an hour before finally giving up and coming here. She hadn't planned on showing up at his doorstep, uninvited, and she wondered if he'd felt like this, doubtful and out of place, all of those times he'd done this to her. If so, she didn't know how he'd managed to so much as knock, let alone wait for someone to answer.

Really, this was ridiculous. She didn't do this sort of thing. She didn't force herself into peoples' lives, or barge into their houses, and then demand they spill their darkest secrets. She wasn't Gale Hawthorne. She wasn't brave enough to go where she wasn't wanted, no matter how much she wanted to be there.

Just as Madge turned to leave, the door flew open. Taken by surprise, she stumbled off of the porch. Luckily it was only a two inch drop and she managed to catch her balance before she hit the ground.

"You going to wait out here all day or what?" said Rory, standing in the open doorway.

* * *

Gale almost hoped that the fence was on, so that he'd have an excuse not to go home yet. As he drew near, he strained his ears for the low buzz of electricity. No luck. Still he paused at the edge of the woods, a few feet from fence. His body felt impossibly heavy. Every step he took like moving a mountain. If this was how Rue's death affected him, he couldn't imagine what Katniss must be suffering now. That little girl had been her hope. Now that she was gone, Gale worried that Katniss wouldn't have the strength to continue. It was reckless to place your hope in something as fragile as another human being. She should've known better.

 _I should have known better,_ he thought. Now more than ever, he regretted not taking Peeta Mellark's place. His arms ached to hold Katniss, to take her pain onto himself, but then again, it probably wouldn't make much of difference, whether he was here or there. Either way, Rue was lost. He couldn't change that by hiding in the woods forever.

Gale slipped through the fence. The world kept turning, though it felt like nothing more than a dead rock beneath his feet.. The sun moved across the sky, though its warmth didn't penetrate the chip of ice his heart had become.

* * *

"Ma, we've got a visitor," said Rory, walking into the kitchen. Mrs. Hawthorne looked up from the potatoes she was peeling. Her eyes lit on Madge, lingering on the threshold, and a faint trace of surprise flickered across her face. Then she flashed a smile so warm and inviting, that Madge couldn't help but tentatively return it.

"Well hello," she said, pushing back her hair. "This is a pleasant surprise."

"You're busy," said Madge, glancing at the pile of half-peeled potatoes on the table. She'd seen Gale's mother before, but always from a distance. She was almost unrecognizable from the young woman in the photo on the mantel, except for the way the corners of her eyes crinkled when she smiled. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to...to uh…"

"Gale's not here," said Rory. Madge blushed. Was it that obvious to everyone that she was looking for Gale? How desperate she must seem.

"I brought some food," she blurted. "It's not much, but I...I just thought…" She trailed off, suddenly remembering Gale's resistance to charity. Bringing them food was just as much of a mistake as coming here at all. They probably saw it as an insult.

But Mrs. Hawthorne was still smiling warmly at her. "Rory, take that basket. It looks heavy."

"It's nothing, really," said Madge, handing the basket over to Rory, who set it on the table and immediately began rifling through.

"Nothing?" he said, his eyes glowing as he weighed a head of lettuce in both hands. "You've got a whole feast in here."

Madge's cheeks turned an even darker shade of red. A feast to them was nothing to her.

"Thank you," said Mrs. Hawthorne. She stood and slapped Rory's hand away from the basket, then narrowed her eyes at him.

"Yeah, thanks," he said. "This is great." Madge could tell he meant it and the nervous knots in her stomach loosened just a little.

"Go tell Vick and Posy it's time to come home," said Mrs. Hawthorne. "Dinner'll be ready soon." She turned to Madge. "You'll stay, won't you?"

"Oh no, no I couldn't. I don't want to...impose."

Rory snorted. "She'd rather stand outside and watch us all eat through the window," he said. "She's scared of us, Ma."

"I'm not," said Madge. She was, in fact, terrified. "I just didn't want to-"

" _Impose,_ " he finished for her, mimicking her tone.

"Rory, go," his mother said.

"Alright, alright," he said, throwing his hands in the air. "I'm going." As soon as he was gone, Mrs. Hawthorne closed her eyes, shaking her head.

"You know," she said, opening her eyes. "I did try with him. Not that it shows. You must think he was raised by wolves."

"No, not him," said Madge. "Gale maybe." She hadn't meant to say it. Her eyes went wide. Every time she opened her mouth, some fresh offense tumbled out. To her surprise, Mrs. Hawthorne let out a deep, throaty laugh.

"Please, sit," she said. "You must be tired from the walk."

"I really should be going," said Madge. "I really just wanted to drop off the food and-"

"Sit," she said again. "You're not intruding on anything and I would _really_ -" she emphasized the word teasingly, "- love if you stayed for dinner. Let me thank you properly."

Madge didn't want any thanks. She didn't want to go home, either, so she sat. Mrs. Hawthorne returned to peeling potatoes, while Madge twisted her hands in her lap. "I can help with that," she said. "Or anything else you need done."

"All I need is some company," said Mrs. Hawthorne after scrutinizing her for a moment. "It's never this quiet in this house. I hate the quiet."

"You want me to talk?" said Madge.

"Or sing, if you like."

"I can't sing." She wasn't very good at talking either. She grasped for a suitable topic, like the weather, but her head was full of Katniss, and Rue, and, most of all, Gale. It most certainly wasn't appropriate to discuss him with his mother, of all people.

"Tell me about school," suggested Mrs. Hawthorne.

"It's…" She thought of Embry Royce, and her miserable lunches spent in solitude, and about how long it'd been since anyone had asked her how school was going. Before she knew it, she was crying. It's all she seemed capable of doing since Rue's death. "I'm sorry," she muttered, burying her face in her hands. "I'm sorry. I-"

Suddenly, Mrs. Hawthorne was at her side. "Hush," she said, pulling Madge into her arms like they'd known each other for years, not mere minutes. "You're okay. Get it all out."

It felt so nice to be held. Madge couldn't resist. Once she'd cried herself out, Mrs. Hawthorne rose from her awkward crouch. She brushed back the strands of hair plastered to Madge's damp cheeks. "Better?" she asked.

Madge managed a nod.

"Good, now how about you help me finish these potatoes," said Mrs. Hawthorne, acting like nothing odd had happened. She didn't press for an explanation, for which Madge was incredibly grateful. She took the knife Mrs. Hawthorne held out to her and set to work peeling, glad to have something simple to focus on for once.

* * *

His family had probably started supper without him. Gale didn't mind. For the first time in his life, he wasn't at all hungry. He hoped he could slip past them to the room he shared with his brothers. Tonight, he couldn't muster any false smiles for Posy and Vick. When they finished eating and the table was cleared, Rory would turn on the Games. The boy was obsessed with them and had been for a long time. Frankly, Gale didn't understand and he didn't care to.

After yesterday, he wasn't sure he'd ever watch them again. He was afraid to see what Katniss was doing now, but couldn't stop himself from imagining her curled up on the ground, defeated once and for all. He walked slowly, dragging his tired feet over the dry, dead grass. Whether he was at home or in the woods, it didn't matter. There was no peace anywhere. No escaping the arena.

* * *

Posy Hawthorne was staring at her like she was the strangest thing in the world. No one else at the table was in the least bit phased by Madge's presence.

"You've got yellow hair," Posy declared.

"Um, yeah," said Madge. Children had always made her uncomfortable, having never been much of a child herself.

"So does Prim," the little girl said. "I wish I had yellow hair."

"You'd look weird," said Rory.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," said Mrs. Hawthorne. "And Posy, stop staring."

Posy's eyes dropped to her plate. A second later they were fixed on Madge again. "You're the mayor's daughter," she said.

"I think she knows that," said Rory, rolling his eyes. Posy ignored him. Her gaze was awfully sharp for a four year old's.

"Are you friends with Gale?" she asked.

"Well, sort of," said Madge.

"Good, he needs more friends. I think he gets lonely now that Kat-"

"That's enough, Posy," said Mrs. Hawthorne. Madge's spoon slipped from her fingers and clattered against the bowl. Hot soup splattered the front of her dress. The table fell silent. Katniss' unfinished name looming over them. Madge didn't pick her spoon back up. It was rude not to eat, especially when they had so little to spare, but she wasn't hungry.

After a few minutes, Vick braved the silence. "I found a new bug today. Some kind of beetle. I've never seen one before."

"No one wants to hear about your collection of creepy crawlies," said Rory. He glanced at Madge. "He's got a whole box of dead bugs under his bed. It's plain weird."

"It's not weird," mumbled Vick, his cheeks beet red.

Taking pity on him, Madge found her voice at last. "What kind of bugs do you have?"

"All kinds," said Vick, immediately perking up at her show of interest. "The spiders are my favorite."

"Ick," said Posy, scrunching up her nose.

"I've almost got all of them. Except for a jumping spider. I can't find a dead one and it's impossible to catch a live one, because they-"

"Here we go," said Rory under his breath. "There's no stopping him once he gets started."

Madge, however, didn't mind. She wasn't afraid of bugs. She just squashed them and moved on, but Vick's uncontained enthusiasm was infectious. He threw out fact after fact. Half of it she didn't understand. Some of it was mind blowing. She hadn't known that black widow females ate the males after mating.

"But why would they do that?" she said. At the same time, Posy asked, "What's mating mean?"

Rory laughed, spitting half-chewed potato across the table. "Sorry Ma," he said, but Mrs. Hawthorne was laughing too. Vick was trying not to. His eyes met Madge's for a second, though, and they both joined in.

"What?" Posy shouted over them, scowling. "What's so funny?"

Madge only laughed harder. Her chair shook from the force of it. Never in her life had she laughed this way, with absolute abandon, not a care in the world. So this is what it felt like to have a family...

* * *

As soon as Gale opened the front door, he was hit by a wave of laughter. Rory was braying like a donkey. It'd been a long time since Gale had heard his brother laugh like that. He forgot about his plan to slip quietly off to his room. Suddenly, after avoiding them for a full twenty-four hours, he wanted to be with them.

"What's the joke?" he asked, striding into the kitchen. Rory was laughing too hard to hear. Posy was shouting, "tell me what's so funny!" at him. Vick's head was on the table, his ears peeking bright red over his arms. Only his mother and Madge Undersee noticed him. Her blue eyes hit him like a bucket of ice water. He felt he'd walked into a dream.

* * *

Madge ceased laughing mid-snort. In an instant, she remembered that Rue was dead and that this was not her family.

"Gale!" cried Posy, forgetting all about the indignity of being laughed at as soon as she saw her brother. "Look who's here! It's the mayor's daughter. She brought us a feast in a basket."

Madge wished she could disappear. She was reminded of why she didn't like children.

"A what?" said Gale, but before Posy answered, his gaze landed on the basket of food on the counter. His expression turned from stunned to livid. He whipped his stormy eyes back to Madge. "Can I talk to you outside?" he said sharply. Without waiting for her response, he spun around and marched from the room, taking the last of the laughter with him.

* * *

Madge Undersee laughing with _his_ family, sitting in _his_ chair, he could've dealt with. Madge Undersee feeding _his_ family was unacceptable. That was his responsibility, not her's. Just because she was the mayor's daughter, didn't mean she had the right to come into his home when he wasn't there. He stared at the front door, waiting for her to emerge. As soon as she did, the storm that had been building inside of him all day burst.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snapped at her.

"Nothing," said Madge.

"Nothing?" he snarled.

"I just wanted to...check in on you," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "After yesterday, I was worried. Then your mom invited me to dinner and I couldn't say no."

"Take it back," he said.

"Take what back?"

"Your goddamn feast in a basket," he said.

"It's a gift," she said. "I'm not taking it back."

A gift? It wasn't a gift. It was an insult. "I'm the one who feeds them," he said, jabbing his finger against his chest. "Not you. We don't need your charity."

Madge took a step forward. Two angry patches of red blossomed in her cheeks. "A gift isn't charity. You've got how many people to feed? Your family and the Everdeens. That's a lot of mouths to fill. I only wanted to help."

Gale's fists clenched at his sides. His eyes raked over her, from the blue satin ribbon in her hair to her white leather shoes. Her clothes alone could buy enough food to last them a month. He wanted to tear that stupid ribbon out of her hair and grind it into the dirt under the heel of his boot. It mocked him, reminding him that he wasn't good enough. He couldn't help Katniss, couldn't save that little girl from Eleven. The only thing he could do was provide for his family.

"I don't need your help," he said.

"It's not a big deal," said Madge. "We're allies. Rule one, remember, we share."

Gale didn't care about her stupid rules. He'd never agreed to that one, any way. He moved towards her and she stumbled back like she thought he was going to hit her. He was tired of that. Who did she think he was? A backwards, woman beating piece of shit? Someone who couldn't take care of his own people?

"They're not your family," he said. "Just because your own family doesn't give a damn about you, doesn't mean you can bribe mine to love you."

* * *

Madge would rather he'd hit her. A physical blow would've hurt less than his words. Their truth cut her to the quick. The food wasn't a gift, or charity. Like he said, it was a bribe, but it wasn't his family she'd meant to buy. She felt the tears coming again. Before they fell, she broke into a run, hating herself more than she ever had before.

* * *

Even as the words left his mouth, Gale knew he'd gone too far. He hadn't meant it, not really, but it was too late to take it back. She was already running away from him as fast as her feet would carry her. Besides, his anger was still simmering. He turned his back on her and marched into the house, determined to lock himself up for good this time.

He didn't make it far. His mother waited for him in the living room, her arms crossed and her eyes deadly. "You go after that girl and apologize right now," she said, blocking his path to his room.

"No," he said.

"It wasn't a request."

"She had no right to-"

"To what?" his mother said. "Do something nice for you?" She didn't even know Madge Undersee, yet she was taking her side.

"Maybe you should just adopt her," he said, his voice rising. "She'll keep you well-fed in exchange." _Better fed than I can,_ he added silently to himself. "We don't take charity," he said. "You told me that."

"She needed to give it more than we needed to take it."

"What?"

"Gale," his mother sighed, letting her arms drop to her side.

"What?" he said again, frustrated and clueless. Why was she defending Madge? Why was she laughing with Madge?

"This isn't about Madge Undersee," she said. "I know that little girl's death hit you hard, but-"

"You don't know anything," said Gale. He tried to brush past her. She matched his step without hesitation, moving as he moved.

"I'm your mother," she said. Somehow, she managed to _stare down_ at him, even though he was almost a foot taller than her. He felt like a ten year old again. "I know," she went on. "You feel helpless, because you couldn't save that girl, you can't save Katniss. Gale, you can't save everyone. But you're a good man." She paused, glancing at the photo on the mantel. "You've got your father's heart."

At the mention of his father, the last of Gale's anger burned out.

"And you've got my pride," his mother said. "There is such as a thing as too much of it, though. It took me a long time to figure that out. You want to do something good, then go after Madge. She didn't mean any harm and you know that."

Yeah, he knew. He thought of the last thing he'd said to her. The words came back to slap him across the face. "She won't forgive me," he muttered. He was so ashamed of himself he didn't even know where to begin apologizing.

"She will," his mother said. "I've never met a lonelier person in my life."

* * *

A group of girls from school stood gathered around the jeweler's shop window, _oohing_ and _ahing_ over the gems imported from District One. Madge darted across the street to avoid them. Every time she thought the last of her tears had dried up, she heard Gale's voice again and the waterworks started all over again. _Just because your own family doesn't give a damn about you…_

She rounded the corner and her nose filled with the smell of bread. Thick, black smoke rose from the Mellark's chimney. She turned her teary eyes skyward to watch it dissipate into the deep blue evening. If she could trade places with Peeta, slowly bleeding to death on a riverbank far away, she would. He had parents, and brothers, and friends to miss him. She would have saved a lot of people a lot of pain if she'd been Reaped in either Peeta's or Katniss' place.

"Undersee, wait up!" Gale's voice shattered the quiet. Madge didn't turn around. He'd said everything already. He'd made it painfully clear what a pathetic burden she was to everyone around her. She picked up her pace, hurrying past the bakery. It didn't take long, though, for him to catch up to her.

* * *

Gale cut in front of Madge to make her stop walking.

"Go away," she muttered, keeping her head bowed. Chasing her down, he'd agonized over how to apologize, but on seeing her face, red and puffy from crying, he didn't need to think anymore.

"I'm sorry," he said before his pride got in the way again. "I was just surprised. I never should have-"

"It doesn't matter," she said, refusing to look at him.

"Yeah, it does," said Gale. "I didn't-"

"You were just being honest," she said.

"No, I was being an-"

"Just forget about it. I don't care."

"You're crying," he pointed out. In his experience, that was a pretty good indicator that someone cared.

"I'm not," she said, trying to step around him. Gale refused to let her. "Please, just go away."

"No," he said.

"Gale, I don't want to-"

"I'm not going anywhere until you let me apologize," he said.

* * *

If Madge had learned anything about him over the past few weeks, it was how impossibly stubborn he was. She wrapped her arms around her waist, physically and mentally steeling herself against him. He could apologize until he was blue in the face and it wouldn't change a thing.

"Did your mother send you?" she asked. His guilty wince was answer enough. Of course he hadn't come because he wanted to. "Well, you can tell her that I'm fine. You said you were sorry. That's that." Still he didn't move. When she looped around him this time, he stayed rooted where he was.

Madge made it a few steps, before he said, "You don't have to buy me." She stopped, unsure how else to react. She felt him walk up behind her, his footsteps bouncing off of the brick-faced buildings on either side of them.

"Or my family," he added. "Especially not my family. They're crazy about you. I haven't heard them laugh like that in forever. I just got...jealous. I really didn't mean all that stuff I said. Really."

"They're not my family," she said before she could stop herself, quoting him. She stared hard at her feet. She could buy all the fancy dresses and hair ribbons she wanted, but Gale was right. She couldn't buy affection. All the money in the world wouldn't make people love her. "You don't have pretend to want me around. I understand."

She felt Gale's hand on her shoulder and knew she should pull away, keep walking, leave him be.

"I do want you around," he said. "I need you, alright. Not your food or your money, just you."

Reluctantly, Madge turned to face him, to tell him that he didn't have to lie for her sake, but he looked so sincere and a little bit sheepish, and everything she was supposed to say sunk back down to the pit of her stomach.

"Please forgive me," he said. "I was an-"

"Asshole," she finished for him.

* * *

Gale never thought he'd hear the mayor's daughter cuss. "You've been spending too much time with Rory," he said, the corners of his lips pulling up into a smile.

"Or you," she said. She wiped her eyes on the front of her dress and started walking again. He fell into step beside her. When she didn't complain, he knew she'd forgiven him, though he didn't deserve it.

At the end of the street, unable to bare the muted sound of her sniffles, Gale said, "So, what was so funny?"

"Nothing really," she said.

"Oh, come on," he said, nudging his elbow against her arm. "It must've been good for Rory to do his donkey laugh."

Madge chuckled and he felt lighter than he had all day. "Posy was asking about the facts of life," she said.

"Facts of life?" repeated Gale, raising an eyebrow at her. "What are you, an old woman, Undersee?"

This time she elbowed him, but it was no gentle nudge. "I'm revoking my forgiveness," she said.

"Too late," he said, shrugging. "You're stuck with me."

Madge looked at him sideways. He was glad to see that her expression was back to normal, brisk and businesslike. "Then I'm making a new rule," she said. "No more closing yourself off like you did yesterday. We don't have to talk about…" _Rue._ She couldn't say the name anymore than he could.

"Okay," said Gale.

"Promise me," she demanded.

"I promise."

* * *

 **Gale Lover, Ex2See, and Guest:** This chapter has left me temporarily drained of words. Still, I can't not tell you how grateful I am for your reviews. Ya'll are endlessly awesome :)))


	14. Hook, Line, and Sinker

**AN:** Here's a long chapter for ya, with a little treat at the end :)

* * *

"All the hard times we been through, we'd never mind them. We'd kiss 'em away, we'd just kiss 'em away."

Shel Silverstein

There could be two victors. Gale still didn't believe it, even though Rory had repeated Claudius Templesmith word for word over a dozen times. Two victors from the same District. Katniss and Peeta or Cato and Clove. It was unprecedented. Then again, leave it to Katniss to break all the rules, whether she meant to or not.

 _This is a good thing,_ Gale told himself, waiting at the mayor's back door with a basket of strawberries. Still guilty over last night, he'd spent all morning picking the best ones for Madge.

Two victors. Insane. What did the Gamemakers possibly have to gain from this? There had to be something. He didn't trust it. Besides, Peeta was dying. Blood poisoning, no doubt about it, and Katniss got queasy just looking at a papercut. But she was strongest when worrying about someone else's life. So what if it was Peeta Mellark's?

Finally, he heard footsteps crossing the kitchen. He forced a smile, expecting Madge, and almost groaned aloud when the maid threw open the door. Before he could even open his mouth, she said, "She's asleep and I'm not waking her up for you."

"I'll wait," said Gale.

The maid eyed him up and down. There was something familiar about her. He couldn't place quite place what.

"Then you might as well make yourself useful," she said. "Hold on." Then the door closed on him, yet again. The lock clicked. Obviously, she didn't like him very much, for whatever reason. Gale was used to being treated like a thief by Townies, but never by someone from the Seam.

* * *

Madge woke to sunlight streaming across the foot of the bed. She shot up from her cocoon of blankets and checked her watch, the one she never took off. _Eleven o'clock_. She never slept so late or so well.

 _Two victors,_ she thought, dressing in a hurry. It was a miracle. It was all thanks to Peeta Mellark. Madge wondered if he'd foreseen this change in the rules when he declared his love for Katniss. Probably not. He was good, but no one was _that_ good. Seventy-four years and the rules hadn't changed once.

There was hope in the world again. Apparently, the rules weren't set in stone. Possibilities were endless. Madge knew she was getting carried away. She didn't bother to rein herself in. Today was historic. Two nobodies from Twelve had done the impossible. No one would underestimate their District after this. Madge had never been prouder of where she came from.

There was a lot she wanted to do today. She had too much excited energy racing through her. Might as well make use of it. In the kitchen, she found Nedy standing at the window, peeking through a crack in the lacy, white curtains.

"What are you looking at?" asked Madge.

"Just keeping an eye on Hawthorne."

"Gale?" said Madge. She darted across the kitchen, nudged Nedy out of the way, and looked out into the garden. Sure enough, there was Gale, snapping bean pods off their stems. She turned her eyes back to Nedy for an explanation.

"I told him you were sleeping," said Nedy. "But he insisted on waiting, so I put him to work."

"How long has he been out there?" asked Madge.

"An hour maybe."

Madge groaned. "Why didn't you just wake me up?"

"Because you don't sleep enough," said Nedy.

Madge was about to tell her that she slept plenty, but there was no point wasting time lying. Instead, she hurried towards the back door. Nedy blocked her path.

"Eat first," she said, steering Madge to the table. "Breakfast before boys."

Madge knew if she protested, it would only take longer for her to escape. She shovelled down the scrambled eggs Nedy set before her.

"Slow down," said Nedy. "Chew."

Madge ignored her. The eggs were perfect and fluffy. She barely tasted them. As soon as she packed in the last bite, she was on her feet again. "Thanks," she said, her mouth full, as she darted past Nedy.

* * *

Gale was almost finished with the beans by the time Madge appeared. She wore a pair of faded, khaki overalls over a simple white t-shirt, her hair thrown up into a messy bun. No fancy dresses this morning.

"Off to the farm?" he asked, smiling up at her. Madge rolled her eyes in response.

"You can stop," she said. "Nedy shouldn't have made you do this."

Gale shrugged. He didn't mind. It was good to keep busy. Besides, he still felt he needed to make up for yesterday. He considered his current toil just another part of his apology. "It's better than being glared at by her," he said. "I don't think she likes me much."

"She's just protective," said Madge.

Gale quirked an eyebrow. "What, does she think I'm going to steal you away or something?"

"Or something," said Madge, glancing at the kitchen window. Gale went back to stripping the last bean plant. He felt her watching him. "Really, you can stop," she said.

Without looking up, Gale gestured to the row of squash behind him. "If those don't get picked today, they'll be ruined."

"I know," said Madge. "That's why I was going to do it today."

"It'll go faster if I help."

"You don't have to."

"I know that, Undersee," he said, dropping another bean pod into the basket beside him. "I _want_ to."

* * *

Who in their right mind would _want_ to spend their Saturday gardening? Then again, as far as she could tell, Gale Hawthorne was never in his right mind. She suspected this had something to do with yesterday. For a moment, she considered pressing her argument, but she didn't want him to leave and, after all, he had been an asshole.

With a defeated sigh, she set to work on the squash. Finished with the beans, Gale joined her. For years, she'd worked out here alone. It was strange to have someone with her, especially when that someone was Gale Hawthorne. Not a bad strange, though.

They worked on opposite sides of the row. After a few minutes of silence, she caught him yawning. "You're tired," she said.

"Not everyone sleeps until noon," he said.

"I don't normally," said Madge, imagining what he was thinking, that she was spoiled, and lazy, and spent all day in bed being catered to.

* * *

From her defensive tone, Gale knew what she thought he was thinking, but he hadn't meant to insinuate anything. What he was really thinking was that a full night's sleep looked good on her. So did the overalls. He turned his attention back to the squash.

* * *

"So, two victors," said Madge, desperate to change the subject. She expected a smile to break across his face, for him to enthusiastically dive into the topic. Instead his face went blank.

"Yeah, I heard," he said. She waited for more. When he moved on to the next plant, she stayed where she was.

"It's great, isn't it?" she said.

"Uh huh."

"I mean, it's kind of a big deal."

"Guess so."

Madge sat back on her heels and stared at him, perplexed by his lack of interest. Usually, it was impossible to get him to stop talking about the Games. Now that the unthinkable had happened, it seemed he couldn't care less.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," said Gale.

"Then why aren't you happy about this? I know you don't like Peeta, but-"

"I don't know him well enough to dislike him."

Madge rolled her eyes. She found it was something she did more often when he was around. "He's a Townie," she said.

"So are you," Gale pointed out. "And I like you alright."

She was glad he was looking so intently at the squash and didn't see how red her face was now. "They've got a real shot of winning," she hurried on. "It's weird, though. Almost like the Gamemakers want them to win."

"Yeah, so they can entertain the Capitol with their whole star-crossed lover crap forever," said Gale, looking up. Madge was stunned speechless by the sudden intensity of his gaze. "You know what happens to the victors. If they win, the Capitol's never going to let them go. They'll probably make her marry him."

"Better than dying," said Madge.

* * *

She was right. Of course she was right. Still, he thought of Katniss, forced to live a lie on camera for the rest of her days, while he was forced to watch. It wasn't Peeta Mellark's fault. He was only trying to save his own skin, maybe even Katniss'. After all, if he hadn't chased her away the morning of the tracker incident, she'd probably be dead already.

It was all just so...so messed up. Since Reaping Day, Gale had gone over a thousand scenarios, but he hadn't seen this coming. Romance, real or feigned, just wasn't a part of the arena. In his head, he'd imagined Katniss coming home, how he'd tell her everything as soon as she stepped off of the train. Tell her that she was the only future he wanted, the only one he needed. Now, though, he felt all of that slipping away. He saw a different future. Katniss and Peeta holding hands for the camera. Katniss and Peeta exchanging lifelong vows. Peeta taking his place.

"Nothing's changed for Katniss," he said.

"What do you mean?" asked Madge, brow furrowed, the corners of her eyes crinkled in confusion.

"By the time she finds him, he'll probably be dead."

"You're horrible," she said, reeling back a little. "That's just….that's just a horrible thing to say."

She was right, again, but his words weren't nearly as horrible as his thoughts. No, none of this was Mellark's fault. No, he didn't deserve to die. All the same, Gale couldn't squash out the horrible part of him hoping for that very outcome.

"I'm being realistic," he said, unsure whether he was trying to convince Madge or himself. "He's got blood poisoning, Undersee."

"Maybe his sponsors we'll send medicine."

"This far into the Games, it'd cost a fortune. No one's going to spend that much money on a baker's boy from District Twelve."

"You don't know they won't," muttered Madge. Gale opened his mouth to say something along the lines of _you don't know they will_. He couldn't. Just a few minutes ago, she'd been in such high spirits. Now the familiar gloom descended over her.

"You're right," said Gale. "I don't know."

They finished the squash in silence. When he reached the end of the row, he stood and rolled his aching shoulders, watching Madge, frowning still, from the corner of his eye. He hadn't meant to crush her hopes. Neither could he bring himself to pretend to be happy about the rule change.

"Do you want to come inside?" she asked. "Watch the Games for a while?"

"I promised Prim I'd watch with her," he said.

"Oh." Madge's frown deepened. "Well, thanks for the help." She bent down to pick up one of the baskets of squash at her feet. Before her fingers looped through the handholds, Gale was struck by a wild idea.

"I'm going fishing tomorrow," he blurted out, not giving himself time to second-guess. "You should come."

Madge straightened up. "To the woods," she said.

"Unless you know where there are any other lakes, yeah."

"No way," she said, shaking her head, no doubt remembering her last disastrous trip into the woods.

"You'll be with me this time," he said. She still looked unsure. "Come on, Undersee. Nothing bad will happen. It'd be good to get away from the Games for a little bit."

* * *

"Gale," she sighed. "I don't know if-"

"You're coming," he said sternly.

"I-"

"I'll beg, if that's what you want." Gale dropped back down onto his knees. "Please, please, please come fishing with me tomorrow." He craned his neck to look up at her. She fought hard against the smile twitching at the corners of her lips. "Please, please, pl-"

"Stop it," she said, the smile winning out over the frown.

"Please, please, please, please-"

"Okay!" she said. "I'll go. Just stop."

"You're too easy, Undersee," he said, grinning at her. In response, she shoved him backwards onto his ass.

"See you tomorrow," she said as she stepped over him.

* * *

Gale couldn't get comfortable. His bed was too short, too narrow, and it groaned loudly with his every move. The splintered wall scraped against his bare, sweaty back, but the physical discomfort was nothing compared to the fire in his brain. Peeta was still alive. Katniss had found him. She'd _kissed_ him. Every time Gale closed his eyes, he saw it happening all over again. Even with his eyes open, he couldn't escape the image of the two of them snuggled close together. Peeta's arms wrapped around her. Katniss' head resting on his chest.

Gale rolled onto his back, then his side. He pulled his knees against his chest, straightened his legs back out, rolled onto his back again.

"You're driving me crazy," hissed Rory. "Stop thrashing around."

"Go to sleep," muttered Gale. He turned over onto his side, so that he was facing the wall, his back to Rory. Five seconds later, he sat up and kicked at the sweat drenched blanket tangled around his legs. Rory groaned into his pillow. Gale ignored him and continued fighting with the covers.

"She's just playing the Game," said Rory, sitting up.

Gale froze. "What?"

"Katniss," said Rory. "The kiss. It doesn't mean anything."

"I know that," snapped Gale.

"Yeah right."

"Shut up," said Gale, falling back against the bed. He tried to stay still, but his whole body itched from the memory of that stupid kiss. He knew Rory was right. It was meaningless. Peeta was dying. That's the only reason she'd kissed him. That's the only reason she planned to risk her life at the feast tomorrow. She'd promised Peeta she wouldn't go, but she would. They were allies, after all. If it were him and Madge in the arena, he'd probably do the same thing. _I wouldn't have kissed her, though_ , he thought bitterly. That seemed slightly overkill. Unnecessary.

Gale didn't even realize that he was moving around again until Rory's pillow flew across the dark room and hit him square in the face. He heard Rory's bed creak, followed by the sound of bare feet stomping towards the door.

"Where are you going?" asked Gale.

"Couch," grumbled Rory as he shuffled past Vick's bed. He paused at the door for a moment and looked at Gale over his shoulder. His expression was unreadable in the darkness. "Just think about something else, alright," he said. "She doesn't love him." Then he slipped out of the room.

 _Think about something else._ Easy for Rory to say. The girl he loved wasn't cuddled up with another boy in some cave thousands of miles away. The girl he loved wasn't kissing another boy. As far as Gale knew, Rory wasn't in love with anyone, so what business did he have giving advice?

Gale took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He tried to focus on Vick's gentle snores and nothing else. It was useless. Finally, he accepted there'd be no sleeping for him tonight. Getting comfortable with the idea of Katniss and Peeta just wasn't going to happen.

* * *

Madge made sure to wake up at the crack of dawn on Sunday morning. As she made her way to the Hawthorne's, her thoughts kept returning to _the kiss._ She hadn't tuned into the Games before heading out. There was no need. By this time, Katniss was probably halfway to the cornucopia for the feast. Her heart was heavy with the usual worries over her friend's safety, but there was something else weighing her down that she couldn't quite place.

As she neared the Hawthorne's house, though, the clash of raised, angry voices from within wiped her mind clean. Gale answered the door before she knocked. "Come on," he said, catching hold of her arm and leading her hurriedly away from the house. Madge glanced back over her shoulder.

"What's going on?" she asked.

Gale didn't answer until they were out of earshot of the screaming. "Rory's failing a few classes," he said, letting go of her arm. "Ma just found out. They've been going at it all morning."

"Maybe I could tutor him," said Madge. "What classes?"

"All of them," said Gale.

"All of them?"

"Yup. He's smart enough, but he doesn't apply himself."

"Oh," she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Gale looked at her sideways through narrowed eyes. "What?" he said.

"I didn't say anything."

"But you want to."

"Well, it's just…that sounds like someone else I know. He looks up to you." Gale snorted. "I'm serious. He does," said Madge. "And _you_ never go to school, so-"

"I go almost every day."

"Dropping off Prim and then coming back to eat lunch with me doesn't count," said Madge.

"So you don't want me to come to lunch anymore?"

"I didn't say that," she huffed. They'd only been together for ten minutes and she was already exasperated with him. "But maybe if you put more of an effort into-"

"Look," interrupted Gale. "I already got this speech from my mother, so can we talk about something else?"

"Fine," she said, turning her gaze forward. "I guess you heard about the feast. Do you think-?"

"I don't want to talk about the Games, either," he said.

Madge stopped. She'd known this was a bad idea. Really, what had she been thinking, agreeing to an illegal fishing trip?

"Then what do you want to talk about?" she said. "Because if you're going to be a jerk all day, then I'll just go home."

* * *

Gale's heart skipped a beat at Madge's threat. The last thing he wanted was to spend the day alone, thinking about the damned kiss. He didn't know how many apologies he had left, before she stopped forgiving him. Deciding not to waste another of his dwindling allowance of _sorry_ s, he went with the first thing that came to mind that wasn't about Katniss, or the Games, or his failure to be a good role model for his brothers.

"I've always wanted go to District Four," he blurted. "See the ocean. I mean, can you imagine that much water?"

* * *

Madge couldn't imagine it. She'd never tried. The water in her bathtub was the most she'd ever seen. She stared at Gale, wondering if he'd lost his mind. What did the ocean have to do with anything? Then it hit her. The ocean didn't have anything to do with anything. That was the point.

"Twelve has a coastline, you know," she said.

"It's fenced off," said Gale.

"Since when has that stopped you?" she said. They started walking again. Silently, it was agreed that they wouldn't discuss the Games today. They wouldn't talk about the serious stuff, the real life stuff. Just the impossible stuff, like seeing the ocean.

* * *

Gale slipped through the fence first. When he turned around, he found Madge hesitating a few feet back.

"What if they turn the fence on while we're out there?" she asked.

"They won't," he assured her.

"How do you know?"

To be honest, he didn't know for certain. It was rare, but he had gotten stuck on the other side of the fence before. Madge didn't need to hear about that, though. The odds of the fence being turned on were slim to none. "Because I do this all of the time," he said. She pursed her lips, unsatisfied with his answer, so he went on. "Take a risk, Undersee. It won't kill you."

* * *

"It might," she threw back at him. Now that she was here, every terrible scenario imaginable swarmed her head. If the fence was turned on, they'd be stranded. For how long? Enough time to be eaten by some wild animal? Even worse, what if they were caught? In less than five seconds, she came up with a thousand ways that going into the woods could get them killed.

"I won't let anything happen to you," said Gale. He stuck his arm through the gap in the fence and held out his hand to her. Madge looked past him to the treeline. "Come on," he coaxed. "Don't let a little fence stop you."

She did want to see the lake. More than that, she wanted to take a risk. There could be two victors. Katniss had kissed Peeta. The world was already turned upside down. Now, if ever, was the time to do the unthinkable. Pushing down her fear, she took Gale's hand and let him pull her to the other side.

* * *

Getting to the lake was no leisurely hike, but Madge didn't complain. Her eyes roved over the trees. Every little sound made her jump. To distract her, Gale started in on an impromptu nature lesson. "That's a white pine," he said, pointing to a tree on their left. "And over there…" He pointed to another tree just up ahead. "...is a sugar maple. There aren't many of those out here. You should see them in the fall, though."

Madge didn't say anything, but she looked where he pointed. Gradually, her nervous expression turned to curiosity. He'd worried about bringing her out here, into his and Katniss' world, but it wasn't nearly as weird as he thought it'd be. The only weird part about it, actually, was how natural it felt to walk through the woods with Madge Undersee.

* * *

The lake was no ocean, but it was the closest thing to it she ever expected to see. She stood on the muddy bank and watched a line of ducks paddle across the sun-sparkling water while Gale gathered the fishing supplies from their hiding place.

"Well, what do you think?" he asked. Madge turned to find him standing behind her, a fishing pole in each hand and the same anxious look on his face that he'd worn when he showed her the meadow and his house. A look that clearly said he expected her to be disappointed. She wasn't. Not in the least bit.

"I'm glad I came," she said, speaking for the first time since crossing the fence. A smile broke across Gale's face. He offered up one of the fishing poles. She took it, ran her fingers over the wood worn smooth by years of use, wondering if it belonged to Katniss. Gale crouched down to dig a worm out of the bucket of dirt at his feet.

"Would you like the honor?" he asked, holding out his hand. Madge wrinkled her nose at the worm wriggling around in his open palm.

"What am I supposed to do with that?" she said.

Gale answered by spearing his own hook through the worm. Then he bent down for another. "Your turn," he said.

"Doesn't it hurt them?" she said. Gale rolled his eyes.

"Never thought to ask," he said.

"You do it," she said, feeling a little queasy.

"No way. You've got to bait your own hook. Those are the rules." He shook the worm at her. "It won't bite. Pretty sure they don't even have teeth."

"I'm not scared of it," she said. Then, to prove that she wasn't, she snatched the worm from him. When she brought it to the hook, it curled around her finger. She pressed her lips together, concentrating one hundred percent. Gale had made it seem so easy, but the worm wriggled and twirled for dear life. She could barely keep hold of it, let alone get it on the hook. By the time she finally succeeded, she had no pity left for the worm.

Gale cast out his line. The hook hit the water with a splash. She followed his lead. "Now what?" she asked.

"We wait," he said.

"That's it?"

"Unless you want to go in and do it bare handed, yeah, that's it."

* * *

Two hours later and they had enough fish to last a week. Even though Madge hadn't caught any of them, she'd made a good partner for the job. She didn't scare off the fish with mundane chatter or get bored, the way Rory did. Now that they'd put down their poles and were sitting on the bank, though, Gale felt required to break the silence. He just didn't know how. He'd already told her everything he knew about the fish they'd caught and given her the names of every plant in the woods. This was the longest they'd gone without discussing Katniss or the Games. He wasn't sure where to go from here.

The noon sun beat down on them. Sweat trickled under his collar and down his spine. Suddenly restless, he leapt to his feet, yanking his shirt over his head as he did.

"What are you doing?" said Madge, a note of panic in her voice.

"What's it look like?" he said, now working on unfastening his belt. He paused to take a quick look at her, staring up at him in horror, eyes wide and jaw dropped. It took every ounce of his self-control not to laugh.

* * *

To Madge, it looked like he was taking his clothes off. She didn't have the faintest idea why. This was her first fishing trip, but she was pretty sure that stripping down naked wasn't a normal part of the experience. She realized she was gaping at him and dropped her eyes to the ground at the same time he dropped his pants. Nedy's voice raced through her head. _You've got to be careful around boys like that._

Madge had less experience with boys than she did with fish. What if Gale had brought her out here to...to…? Had he brought other girls here? Maybe this was a pattern. Invite a girl fishing, promise to protect her in the big, scary woods, and then…

"Get your head out of the gutter, Undersee," said Gale, cutting off her train of thought. "I'm going swimming."

Her face flamed hotter than the sun. Swimming, of course. That should've been obvious. She watched his feet until he reached the lake's edge and they disappeared under the water. When he was in up to his waist, she slowly raised her line of sight, up the crease of his spine, across his shoulder blades, to the dark hair sticking up at the nape of his neck. As if he felt her watching, he tossed an over-the-shoulder smirk at her.

"You can keep checking me out, if you want," he said. "Or you can come in. I'm fine with either."

Madge dropped her eyes again. "I hope you drown," she muttered under her breath as she rolled up the legs of her overalls. She hoped the water was cold, too, because she was burning up.

* * *

Gale filled his lungs with air and went under. He exhaled through his nose, letting his body sink until he hit the sandy bottom and floated up again. He broke the surface, shaking the water from his hair. Madge still clung close to the shore, the water lapping against her knees.

"Come on," he said, beckoning her towards him.

"I'm good right here," she called back to him. Gale paddled closer. His feet found the ground and he switched to walking.

"Scared of the fish?" he said.

* * *

Madge crossed her arms. "I can't swim," she admitted. He kept moving closer. She didn't trust the gleam in his eyes. "Gale," she said, a warning in her tone. She waded back a step, but it was too late. He lunged and,next she knew, she was slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Put me down!" she cried, beating her fists against his back. He had his arm clamped around her legs to keep her from kicking. "Put me down right now! I can't swim! I can't!" The water was only a few inches from her face now and she went still, truly terrified that he'd drop her. She imagined her lungs flooding and couldn't breathe.

When Gale loosened his grip, she clawed at his back, desperate for something to hold onto. Her nails raked uselessly over his smooth skin as her body slid into the water. She locked her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, her fists curled in his hair. In her struggle, she choked on a mouthful of water.

* * *

"Relax," grunted Gale. "I won't let go." Her heels dug painfully into the small of his back. He'd never seen her so scared. A few minutes ago, she couldn't even look at him. Now she was trying to climb him like a tree. He pulled her tight against him, chest to chest, so close he could feel her heart racing

"You're alright," he said.

* * *

Madge's eyes locked onto his and, instantly, the fear was gone. She still couldn't breathe, but for an entirely different reason. Gale didn't seem to be having any difficulties in that department. His own breath tickled her upper lip.

Her thoughts flew back to Katniss and Peeta and she realized what it was she'd felt watching them kiss. Jealousy. It was stupid. Entirely stupid, entirely true. She was jealous of the way Peeta had looked Katniss, like she was the most beautiful thing in the world. She supposed that dying could make you see the things differently, but there was a nagging part of her that knew that wasn't the case with Peeta. He loved her. He really did. It wasn't some great and complicated plan to save his own life or make Katniss likable. Everything he'd said was true. Entirely, stupidly true.

Gale was so close that their noses almost brushed. If she leaned forward just a little…

She tore her eyes away from his. "Take me back," she said, though she was no longer scared of drowning. It was her sudden impulse to kiss Gale Hawthorne that she was most afraid of.

* * *

As soon as they reached shallow water, Madge untangled herself. She marched to shore, splashing him in her wake. Gale regretted dragging her in. He hadn't thought, just acted, and now she was upset. The day was going so well. Leave it to him ruin things.

Madge stood with her back to him, hugging herself tight.

"Are you okay?" he asked, afraid to go any closer to her. She didn't respond. "Undersee?" Nothing. "Do you want to go back?" Still nothing. "Please say something. I didn't-"

Without any warning, she spun around and flung herself at him. Her face slammed into his and he stumbled back from the pain.

* * *

Bright red blood streamed from Gale's nose. "I'm so sorry," she said, watching him try to staunch the flow. "I'm so, so, so sorry."

"What the hell was that?" he asked, his voice muffled by his hand.

"I'm sorry. Really, so sorry." She couldn't stop apologizing. Years of being publicly teased by Embry and her gang hadn't prepared her for mortification to this extreme. She never acted on impulse. Never. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm-"

Gale lowered his hand. The flood was just a trickle now. "I heard you the first hundred times," he said. "Skip to the part where you explain."

Madge was too flustered to formulate a lie. "I just thought…Well, actually, I wasn't thinking. I-"

Gale's eyes went wide. "You tried to kiss me," he said.

"What? No, no I didn't." He raised both eyebrows at her. "Okay, maybe," she said. His brows rose higher. "Fine, yes," she shouted, throwing her hands into the air. "I've never done it before. Everyone else has. Even Katniss. And since you've kissed every girl in school-"

"Not every girl," said Gale.

She talked over him, unable to stop now that she'd started. "I don't _like_ you. I just figured, well, kissing isn't a big deal to you, and you're not wearing a shirt, and-"

* * *

When she got to the part about the shirt, Gale burst out laughing.

"It's not funny!" cried Madge.

"It's fucking hilarious," he gasped. Madge Undersee had just tried to kiss him. It wasn't the first time this sort of thing had happened, but no one had ever given him a bloody nose before. He doubled over, crying from laughing so hard. He didn't stop until she spun on her heels and stomped off.

"Undersee, hold up. Where you going?"

"Home," she snapped.

"You're going the wrong way," he said. She made a sharp left, still going the wrong way. Gale heaved a sigh. He wiped the blood from his face and went after her.

"Oh, come on," he said. "Don't be mad. I'll kiss you if it means that much to you."

"Forget it," she muttered. "It was stupid. _I'm_ stupid."

Gale caught her arm and spun her around. She didn't fight him. She wouldn't look at him, either. Little blonde curls stuck to her cherry red cheeks. She was dripping wet, her overalls clinging to her like a second skin and the pale pink shirt underneath soaked see-through. He couldn't keep his eyes from dipping down.

"You're not stupid," he said seriously. "A little overenthusiastic, maybe." He didn't think her face could get any redder, but then it did. It was kind of cute, the whole thing. Now that some of the shock was worn off, he felt oddly flattered.

Gale dropped his hand from her arm to her hip and took one step forward, closing the last little bit of distance between them.

"What are you doing?" she said, finally meeting his gaze again.

"I'm going to kiss you," he said.

"I don't want you do it just because you pity me."

"Okay," he said, leaning in.

"Really, I don't want you to-"

Gale kissed her, because he did pity her, and he felt guilty for laughing, and he was thinking of Peeta and Katniss, and because Madge Undersee was just too damn cute in those soaking wet overalls.

It didn't mean anything at all.

* * *

The kiss, warm and sweet and impossibly simple, was over before Madge registered it'd begun. There wasn't even enough time to close her eyes. When he pulled away, it took everything she had not to leap at him again. Rather than squelching out the wild impulse which had taken her over for a moment, she was hungry for more. As the tingling sensation in her lips faded and the stars in her eyes burned out, she managed to gather a weak hold over herself

Gale wasn't looking at her the way Peeta had looked at Katniss. He didn't love her. Still, it was a nice first kiss. She appreciated the gesture. "Thank you," she said.

"No problem," said Gale. "We should go. They might've turned the fence on by now."

And just like that, she felt completely normal again, wanting nothing more than to slap him.

* * *

 **Gale Lover:** Phew, glad I did the Hawthornes justice. Hopefully the events in this chapter make up for the lack of them in this chapter...

 **Ex2See:** Thanks, as always, for your review. I look forward to being able to bring more of Katniss and Peeta into the story :))

 **Guest:** I'm so sorry, and a little proud, that I made you sorrowful. Buckle up, my dear, because the emotional roller coaster has only just begun.


	15. Under Pressure

**AN:** Uh oh, it looks like Madge is starting to catch some feelings. Next chapter picks up where this one ends. Only a few more chapters to go, dear readers, before part one is complete.

* * *

"And all these human pillars of loftiness, going stiff, metallic-stunned with the weight of their responsibility. I stumble against them."

David Herbert Lawrence

"Who can explain why Panem is partitioned into twelve districts?" Mr. Quimby addressed the class in his crisp, dry voice. Every monday, he gave a vocal pop quiz. He glanced at Madge over his taped together glasses, expecting her hand to shoot into the air, but she wasn't paying the least bit of attention. She was too busy pouring over her journal, broken open over her history notes. That morning, she'd crossed off Clove's name so hard that her pen tore through the fine paper. Katniss and Peeta were the only District partners left. They were so close to victory, Madge could almost taste it.

She could still taste Gale, too. Every few minutes, without realizing it, she ran her thumb across her bottom lip, remembering the light pressure of his mouth on her's. She'd dreamt of him. Water droplets sparkling on his olive skin, making his whole body shimmer. She tried to push the dream from her thoughts, but it kept coming back.

The bell rang and she jerked her hand away from her lips. Blushing, she looked around, worried that her classmates were watching her, that they knew somehow what she was thinking, but they were all busy gathering their books, chatting to one another, eager for lunch. Madge trailed behind them out of the classroom, down the hall, to the courtyard.

When she saw Gale, waiting for her like always, her stomach did a funny flip flop. He was sitting in Katniss' chair with his feet propped up on the table, his hands folded behind his head. Perfectly at ease, like nothing had happened yesterday. _Nothing did happen,_ she reminded herself. Even as she thought it, though, her hand moved to her lips yet again.

She spun around and fled. Before her feet caught up to her mind, she found herself in the girl's bathroom. She locked the door behind her and pressed her back against it as a needless, extra precaution. Her heart was racing as if she'd just run a marathon.

* * *

Gale's pockets were weighed down by Greasy Sae's donation money. Coins clinked together with his every step. By Capitol standards, it was nothing. For the Seam, it was a small fortune. Every Hob vendor had given a little something. In all the Games past, he couldn't remember there being such a show of district solidarity. The end was in sight and, for once, Twelve had a hope of winning. More than a hope. Katniss and Peeta had the advantage. They were together. They had the sponsors eating out of their lovesick hands.

Of course the Gamemakers were prolonging the agony with a storm straight out of hell. For now, Katniss and Peeta were hunkered down in their cave, nursing each other back to health and exchanging sloppy, doe-eyed glances. The Games were paused, so the Capitolites could get their fill of young love. Gale was disgusted by the whole thing. He refused to watch. If something important happened, when the storm finally let up, Rory would let him know.

Gale stopped at a booth by the door. He'd past it a thousand times, never sparing more than a cursory glance. This time, though, something caught his interest. Three books teetering precariously on the edge of a makeshift table made of upturned wooden crates. Immediately, he thought of Madge.

The vendor noticed Gale eyeing the books. "You interested?" he asked. He was a middle-aged man with straw colored hair, unusual in the Seam, and a dark mole on the tip of his nose.

"Depends on what you've got," said Gale. He didn't know the first thing about books, but years of trading at the Hob had taught him the single most important rule of bartering. Always act like you know more than you do. He reached for the book on top.

"Careful," the vendor snapped. "They're fragile."

"And moldy," said Gale. The title was blanketed by a layer of gray-green fuzz. He nudged it aside and picked up the one underneath. Its binding was missing. The yellowed pages crumbled at the the touch. He wondered how old these books were. Time had made them worthless. The third book was in the best condition. He read the title, _Romeo and Juliet_.

"Have you read this one?" asked Gale.

"About half a dozen times," said the vendor.

"What's it about?"

"Buy it and find out."

Gale flipped through the pages. He squinted at the cramped, handwritten notes in the margins. The ink was too worn and smudged to make anything out, except a few incoherent words. Madge probably had hundreds of better books. Ones that weren't cluttered with a dead person's reflections, ones that didn't smell faintly of cat piss. All the same, he couldn't stop himself from asking, "How much?" The price the man gave was exorbitant.

"But it's all written in," protested Gale.

The vendor shrugged his bony shoulders. "That there's more rare than gold. You won't find another outside of the Capitol."

Gale turned his frown to the book in his hands. It was ridiculous to even consider spending so much on a bunch of old pieces of paper. Still, as soon as he saw the books, he'd been overcome with a longing to give Madge something, to make her smile, because she rarely ever did. He wanted to repay her for going fishing with him, for taking his mind off of the Games and Katniss, for forgiving him every time he asked her to.

But the price was too high and one look at the vendor's starched expression made it clear that no amount of haggling would make him lower it. Gale set _Romeo and Juliet_ back down on the makeshift table.

* * *

The Capitolites' train would arrive in ten minutes. It was never late, never early. Madge needed to be on the platform at exactly the right time to greet Twyla and the rest of the interview crew. She hurried out the door and had just stepped off of the porch when her name rang out across the quiet calm of the overcast day. She turned to the sound and saw Gale approaching from the other end of the street. She needed to hurry. She was supposed to already be at the station, but by the time she remembered that, he was standing before her. He opened his mouth to speak. She beat him to it.

"I've got to go," she said in a rush, spinning on her heels and setting out at a brisk pace.

"Go where?" asked Gale, falling into step beside her. From the corner of her eye, she caught him scanning her from head to foot, and she had to fight against the hot flush creeping up the back of her neck. "Got a hot date waiting for you?" he said, grinning.

"No," she said shortly.

"Well, you didn't get all dressed up just to avoid me," he said.

"I'm not avoiding you."

Gale laughed. "I saw you at lunch," he said. Madge winced. She didn't have any plausible excuses for why she'd fled the courtyard. She certainly wasn't about to tell him about her dream or the how the sight of him made her feel like there was boiling hot water sloshing around in her stomach.

"I'm just busy," she said, walking faster. "Twyla's coming and-"

"Who?" said Gale.

"The Capitol interviewers. I'm supposed to meet them on the platform. I'm late."

Gale shrugged. "Make them wait a little," he said.

* * *

"I can't do that," said Madge, sounding horrified by the suggestion.

"Why not?" asked Gale.

"It'd be rude," she said, looking straight ahead again.

"Not as rude as cheering children to their deaths," said Gale dryly. If he were in Madge's place, he'd let the Capitol people wait until they rotted.

"Shhh," she hissed, eyes darting from side to side. It was like she thought the street was bugged, like President Snow himself was listening, but the Capitol didn't bother that much with Twelve, the bottom of the barrel. He'd seen just about every Peacekeeper in the District trading illegally at the Hob. Most of them were young boys or old men from District Two, irritated at the Capitol for getting sent to this piss hole.

"Oh look, there's Old Cray," said Gale, glancing behind him. Madge didn't look back. She sucked in her cheeks, the way she always did when she was ticked off with him. It was just too easy to push her buttons. "No really," he said, feigning dread. "He's coming to arrest us. God, look at him run. He's so fat, I'm surprised he can-"

Madge cut him off with a backhanded slap across the stomach. "Maybe it's a big joke to you, but my father represents our district with these people," she said, her dainty, white shoes hitting the pavement a little harder than before. "He needs their respect. So we bow, and we scrape, and we greet them on time, and they remember how lovely we were to them when they go home, and when my father needs to beg for more food for the district, they lend their support. That's the punch line. Go on, laugh at _Miss Mayor_ sucking up to the painted freaks."

"I know what your dad does for this district," said Gale when she paused for breath.

Madge stopped to face him. "No you don't," she said. "You have no idea what it's like to have to entertain _them_. It's one thing to be proud and sullen when you've only got your own family to worry about, but our actions affect everyone in Twelve. That's 8,000 people depending on you not to fucking mess up."

Finally, Gale understood Madge Undersee. No wonder she so uptight, so infuriatingly perfect all of the time. All these years, he'd mistaken her for cold and stuck-up, when the truth was she cared too much. The thought of her _bowing and scraping_ for the Capitolites didn't settle well with him. She was a thousand times better than any them. Really, he didn't like the idea of her _bowing or scraping_ to anyone.

"I'm late," she said again, before he figured out what to say in response to her tirade. When she took off, he didn't follow. It wasn't until she reached the end of the street that he found his voice.

"Good luck," he called after her. He felt like an idiot as soon as the words left his mouth. They weren't the ones he wanted to tell her. She waved her hand to acknowledge she'd heard him and then disappeared around the corner.

* * *

"Oh look, we've just missed them," said Sao, one of the makeup artists. She cast Madge a pointed glance, tossing her snow-white hair over her shoulder as she did. "If only we'd gotten here a pinch sooner."

Madge had lost count of how many times she'd apologized for being fifteen minutes late. She was so sick of the word _sorry_ , that when she tried to say it again now, she thought she might vomit instead.

"They'll be on again soon," said Twyla. "Ninety percent of screen time goes to the star-crossed lovers." A chorus of titters and sighs went up around the room.

"They're the only ones worth watching," chimed in a woman with what looked like a violet beehive on her head. Was it her hair or a hat? Madge couldn't tell.

"I favor the boy from Two," said Sao. "What was his name?"

"Cato," said Madge, a little too vehemently. Not once had any of them called the tributes by their names. It was always the Girl or Boy from District Whatever. Cato was cruel, bloodthirsty, abominable, but he had a name. He was a human being.

Sao fixed her pupil-less eyes on Madge. "You watch the Games, Martha?" she asked. Madge hid her clenched fists in the folds of her dress. _That's not my name,_ she wanted to scream. She'd rather they just call her Girl from Twelve.

"Of course she does," said Twyla. "She's got to keep an eye Katniss."

Madge's fists loosened. She felt a sudden warmth towards Twyla. At least she remembered Katniss' name. But the moment was ruined when Twyla continued, "I'm sure you're thrilled with how it's all turned out." _Thrilled_ was not the word Madge would use. Like she'd been skinned alive and hung up to dry was a more accurate description of how she felt.

"I'm glad Katniss will be home soon," she said, honestly. _But then what?_

"You must make sure to do well in your interview tomorrow," said Sao. "Your friend, Kathy-"

"Katniss," snapped Madge.

Sao flinched, as if a fly had landed on her cheek, and then carried on like she hadn't heard. "-isn't very charming. She's so flat on camera. A stale cracker, if you ask me. Sponsors can make or break a tribute at this point in the Game. Kathy needs as much help as-"

"Excuse me," said Madge, standing suddenly. "I need to check on super." She hurried across the room, pushing her way through the shocked silence now fallen over the guests. As soon as she closed the door behind her, she broke into a run. Nedy was in the kitchen, so she tore through the front door, leapt from the porch, and kept running.

* * *

Gale caught the tail end of Posy's shirt. "Tag, you're it," he said, sweeping her up into the air. Holding her under both arms, he spun around, going faster and faster, getting her good and dizzy before he put her back on her feet. She teetered for a moment, her eyes scrunched closed. Gale prepared to take off running, when Vick barreled around the side of the house.

"Madge is here," he said, skidding to a stop beside Posy, whose eyes flew open to search excitedly for the mayor's daughter. Since Madge had brought the feast in a basket, she was all Posy talked about.

"Where?" she asked, tugging on Vick's arm. Before he could answer, Madge appeared.

"Will she play with us?" said Posy. Madge did not look like she'd come to play. She marched towards them, her eyes burning fiercely, her mouth set in a hard, determined line.

"Maybe in a little bit," said Gale. "Let me talk to her first."

Posy pouted. She was about to protest, but then Vick said, "Come on, Pose. You're it," and sprinted away. "Catch me if you can," he called over his shoulder. Never one to turn down a challenge, Posy chased after him. Gale stayed where he was. For a second, he didn't think Madge was going to stop until she crashed into him. She came pretty close.

"What are you doing-?"

"You're not ready," she said, cutting him short.

Gale reeled back in confusion. "Ready for what?"

"The interviews!" she cried, throwing her hands in the air. "They're tomorrow."

"I know that."

"Well, what are you going to say?" she said. "You were awful the last time. You've got to do better. We need to...we need to prepare." She began pacing, wringing her hands together. As she spoke, her voice became shriller. "Because Katniss is a stale cracker and-"

"A what?" snorted Gale.

Madge ignored him. "-and the sponsors can make or break her still. They can't even remember her name. We've got to make them remember her name. It's not Kathy. I mean, what kind of name is that, any way?"

Gale didn't have a clue what she was talking about. She paced faster, snowballing into a frenzy. "What are you going to wear? What are you going to say?" She threw question after question at him, not giving him any time in between to answer. "Monosyllable answers aren't going to cut it this time, Hawthorne. This is serious business. We should practice. Practice, practice, practice until we get it perfect, until-

"Woah," said Gale, "Take a breath, Undersee." He grabbed her shoulders to hold her in place, but she shook him off.

"There isn't time!" she said, her voice cracking. "The interviews are tomorrow and you're not ready. _I'm_ not ready. Sao's right. The final interviews are the most important. I should've been planning for this days ago. Now there isn't any time and-"

Not knowing how else to shut her up, Gale clamped his hand over her mouth. "Just calm down," he said. "I don't understand what you're-"

Madge shoved his arm away. "I can't calm down," she said. "Don't you get it?"

"No," said Gale honestly. She was acting and talking crazy. "Come on." He took her hand, holding it tight so she couldn't pull away, and pulled her across the yard, to the front of the house. All the while she continued to screech in his ear, but he'd stopped listening. Until she calmed down, there was no point. "Sit," he said, pushing her down onto the edge of the porch. "I'm going to get you some water."

"No," she said, snatching hold of his hand just seconds after he let her go. "Aren't you listening? There isn't-"

"Time," he finished for her. "Yeah, I'm listening. You're just not making any sense."

"We need to write a script," she said. "Do you have any paper? A pen?"

"A script for what?"

"Tomorrow!"

"We don't even know what they're going to ask," said Gale. When she tried to stand, he pushed her back down, leaving his hands on her shoulders to keep her sitting. "Just stop for a second, alright, before you have a heart attack."

"Where are you going?" she asked, grabbing the hem of his pants when he attempted to step around her.

"I'm getting you that water." She didn't let go, so he added, "I'll hurry. Just stay here and sit still."

* * *

As soon as the screen door closed behind Gale, Madge was on her feet and pacing again. She couldn't think when she was sitting still. The rule change had made her too complacent. She should have started preparing herself for the final interview ages ago, instead of letting herself be distracted by a stupid fishing trip and an even stupider kiss. She should've met Gale at lunch to work on his talking points. In her head, she replayed his first interview. It was even worse in hindsight.

She glanced at the door every few seconds, wondering what was taking him so long. The Games weren't over yet. Just because the odds were in Katniss' favor, didn't mean she'd win. Anything could still happen. Anything at all.

When Gale finally reappeared, she launched into another speech, picking up where they'd left off. "I can't be one hundred percent certain what they'll ask us tomorrow, but I've got a few guesses. We can start from there. I'll ask you what I think they'll ask and then we'll-"

"Drink," said Gale, holding out the cup of water.

"I'm not thirsty."

He pressed the cup into her hands and repeated his command, "Drink."

"But-"

He put his hands over her's and raised the cup to her lips. Water splashed up her nose. She would've dropped the cup if he wasn't holding it as well. The water was lukewarm and metallic tasting, but she suddenly realized how thirsty she actually was, after having run the whole way here without pause. She took another sip, then a gulp, then she chugged, not caring that more water spilled down her dress than down her throat. When she finished, she stared into the empty cup, feeling drained herself.

* * *

Madge was just staring at the bottom of the cup. "Do you want more?" asked Gale Shaking her head, she looked up at him. "Do you want to go inside?" he asked. She shook her head again. Five seconds ago she was talking a mile a minute. Now she seemed struck mute. He didn't have a clue what to do with her. When it came to female anatomy, he was an expert, but he was hopeless at navigating female emotions.

He'd never had a girlfriend. At least not the sort you held hands and meaningful conversations with. There was Katniss, sure, but she didn't have freak outs like this. She was the sensible one in their relationship. The same was true for his mother and Posy's worst fits were over stubbed toes and skinned knees. Gale didn't think he could kiss Madge all better.

"So," he said, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Katniss is a stale cracker. What's that mean exactly?"

Madge shrugged. "I don't know. It's just something Sao said."

Gale didn't need to ask who _Sao_ was. Only someone from the Capitol would have a name like that.

"She kept calling me Martha," Madge went on, a violent undercurrent to her tone. "The way they talk about the Games...it's just...just…" Her fingers curled around the cup, her knuckles going bone white. "I hate them, everything about them, even the way they breathe. They breathe differently, you know. They breathe easy, because they don't have to worry about, well, not breathing."

"I'll take your word for it," said Gale.

"And the way they eat," she said. "They've got this drink that makes them puke, so they can keep filling their fat, ugly faces. Did you know that?"

"No."

"Well, they do."

"I believe you," he said, gently prying the cup from her hands before she squeezed so hard it shattered. He was a little surprised to hear Madge talk this way about the Capitolites, considering their earlier conversation. "You want to tell me what happened?"

"Nothing happened," she said. "Nothing new."

"Aren't you supposed to be with them now?" It was the wrong thing to say. Madge began to pace again.

* * *

At Gale's question, the full weight of what she'd just done came crashing down. "I left them," she said. "First I was late, then I just left them. Oh God, oh God, what was I thinking?" But that was the problem, she hadn't been thinking. She imagined the Capitolites sitting in the guest parlor, waiting for her to come back. Surely by now they realized she was gone, but maybe not. Maybe she could run home before her absence was noticed.

"I've got to go back," she said, coming to an abrupt halt.

"Do you want to?" asked Gale.

"If course I don't," she snapped.

"Then don't," he said, making it sound like the easiest thing in the world, like he hadn't heard a word she'd said that afternoon about how important it was to keep the Capitolites happy.

"I _have_ to," she said.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want."

Madge rolled her eyes. "You don't get it," she said. "I should never have left. They won't be happy and if they're not happy, nobody is.." She moved to leave, but Gale stepped in front of her.

"What about your happiness?" he said.

She let out a bitter laugh. Happiness wasn't a luxury she could afford.

"I'm serious," he said. "Look, I get it, really, but you can't be responsible for 8,000 people. That kind of pressure is going to kill you"

"One less mouth to feed, I guess," she said. Gale's eyes narrowed.

"Don't," he said. "You're more than that."

"I'm not anything," she muttered. "I'm just a waste of-"

"You're strong, and you're kind, and you're probably the smartest person I've ever known," said Gale.

"You matter just as much as anyone else. You're not just the mayor's daughter and you can't take care of everyone. That doesn't make you a failure. It makes you human. Sometimes you've got to be a little selfish. Take a break. Do what makes you happy and fuck all the rest."

"Yeah, because you're the spitting image of happy," she said. "Mr. Always Serious and Scowling."

"I know how to have fun," he said.

"How?" she asked, because she didn't know the first thing about having fun.

* * *

Posy's and Vick's laughter drifted to them on the breeze. "It's easy," said Gale, smiling at the sound. He reached out and tapped her shoulder. "Tag, you're it." Then he took off running. Just before he rounded the house, he looked back to see Madge standing frozen in place.

"You're supposed to chase me," he called back to her.

"Why?"

"Because it's fun, Undersee."

"How exactly is chasing you supposed to be fun?"

"Because if you catch me, I'll kiss you again," he said, smirking at her.

"I'd rather you didn't."

"Okay," he said with a shrug, taking a step towards her. "Then if you don't play, I'll kiss you."

"No you will not," she said, taking a step back for every step he took forward.

"Pucker up, Undersee."

"You're an idiot," she threw back at him, the faintest hint of a smile on her lips. He was closing in on her.

"And you're not running," he said.

* * *

He was only a few feet away, that dangerous gleam in his Seam gray eyes. She knew he was only joking, but her stomach was doing that funny flip flopping thing again. "You stay away from me, Gale Hawthorne," she warned. It was useless. He kept on coming.

Really, she had no choice but to run.

* * *

 **Ex2See:** Thanks for the suggestion! I'll keep it in mind. I've got big plans for Catching Fire. All kinds of drama between Gale and Madge, haha. Like, drama with a capital **D**.

 **Missastoria:** Howdy! Glad you're enjoying the story so far! I love writing it, so it looks like a win/win for the both of us :)


	16. Past Curfew

**"You will always fall in love, and it will always be like having your throat cut, just that fast."**

-Catherynne M. Valente

Madge kept perfectly still. She took shallow breaths, worried that the subtle rise and fall of her chest would disturb Posy, who was fast asleep in her lap. Her legs were numb. She wished Gale would hurry back from putting Vick to bed. The poor boy had passed out on the floor. Madge was just as tired as the two children. She was always tired, but this fatigue was different, less heavy than usual. Her body ached. Her numb legs were streaked with dirt and grass stains from all the times she'd fallen down while chasing the Hawthornes, and yet she felt better than she had since Reaping Day. There would be hell to pay when she returned home, but for now she was content to linger in the playful afternoon she'd shared with the Hawthornes.

Posy burrowed her face against Madge's stomach. For a while, Madge stared at the top of the little girl's head, marvelling at how she'd gotten here, to a place she'd never imagined to find herself. Suddenly, she felt an ache deep in her chest, a longing for siblings of her own. She'd seen yet another side of Gale today. With his sister and brother, he'd acted almost like a child himself. His laughter came easy. When he'd scooped up Vick to carry him to bed, his expression was peaceful, soft with love.

Madge would trade all of her pretty things for the love the Hawthorne siblings had for one another. She thought of what it'd be like to have a little sister of her own, someone to bring a little bit of light and laughter to her house full of ghosts. Carefully, almost fearfully, she touched the top of Posy's head, stroked the girl's silky, black curls, and let herself pretend that this was her life, her family.

* * *

Gale paused on the living room threshold. Half-concealed by shadow, Madge didn't notice him. He wasn't ready to be noticed. Instead he watched her stroke his sister's hair, as he tried to decipher her expression, a mixture of sadness, longing, and...ease. It had taken a while for her to loosen up around his siblings. Clearly, children made her uncomfortable, but seeing as she'd never even played tag before, he guessed that she hadn't had much of a childhood herself. Being the mayor's daughter wasn't the joy he'd always assumed it was. For once, he was grateful for his own life. He wouldn't trade his hunger pains or patched clothes for all of Undersee's riches, not if it meant giving up his family. He could live without feasts, without new clothes, and fancy dishware made in the Capitol, but he couldn't live without his brothers, sister, and mother.

Gale shifted his weight, causing the floorboards underfoot to creak. Madge looked up. Her hand froze an inch above Posy's head. She looked at him like she'd been caught doing something shameful.

"Took you long enough," she whispered, feigning annoyance. Gale wasn't fooled. He'd been watching long enough to know that Undersee had been enjoying herself. Still, it was time to free her. He lifted Posy's rag doll body into his arms. She woke.

"No," she muttered sleepily. "I wanna stay."

"Time for bed, Pose," said Gale, carrying her across the room.

"Not tired," she said, even as her eyelids fluttered. "Wanna stay with Madge."

Gale glanced over his shoulder to see Madge following their progress with that sheepish look still. "Don't worry," he said. "She'll come back."

* * *

Left alone, Gale's words circled in Madge's head. _She'll come back._ He'd spoken with such certainty, but what made him so sure? Madge wanted to come back. In fact, she never wanted to leave. She knew, though, that it was better not to get attached. The Games would be over soon, not soon enough, soon all the same, and then…

Then she and Gale would return to how they'd been before. Rules were rules. Of course, they'd broken the rules with yesterday's kiss, but that was different, that was nothing. She and Gale were allies, nothing more, and once he didn't need her anymore, she had no illusions that things would continue as they had the past few weeks, even if she wanted them to. Boundaries, she reminded herself, there have to be boundaries.

When she heard Gale's heavy footsteps returning, she wiped her face clear of the twisted emotions at war within. For now they were still allies. She might as well enjoy it while she could.

"Want me to walk you home?" said Gale. Madge shook her head. She wasn't quite ready to face the storm yet. Gale dropped down beside her on the couch. The cushions dipped under his weight and she slid a little closer, until their knees almost touched. This morning she'd been terrified of getting to close to him, afraid she'd want to kiss him again, but now such fears seemed silly. Being near him was comfortable, dangerously comfortable, too comfortable to give up.

"Should we plan for tomorrow, then?" he said.

"No," said Madge. She was too tired for that. She'd let the Capitolites work her into a frenzy. Now that she'd been brought down from it, she could think clearly again. Katniss was beyond their help.

Madge didn't realize that she was crying until Gale took her hand.

* * *

"I'm sorry," said Madge. She tried to pull away from him to wipe the tears from her cheeks, but Gale held fast to her hand.

"You can cry, Undersee," he said. "No one's looking now."

"You are," she said, making another attempt to free herself. Gale wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. He understood without needing to be told what she was fighting against. Like him, like Katniss, she was afraid of being vulnerable, of letting show just how much everything hurt. Unlike him, unlike Katniss, she didn't have a family to turn to when the pain grew to be too much.

"I won't tell anyone," he promised. "Do what you need to."

* * *

And so she did. Madge slumped against his side, letting go easier than she thought possible. The last two times she'd cried in front of him, the tears had been bitter, full of rage and injustice. This time her crying was quiet, a gentle rainfall of anguish. She thought of Rue and the others, even the Careers, and for the families they'd left behind. She thought of Prim and Posy, of their fathers lost to the mines, and their mothers left to carry on the best they could. She thought of Aunt Maysilee, who she'd never met, and of her own mother, who she didn't know anymore. She thought of Katniss and Peeta, so close to coming home, and still so far. All of the death, the needless bloodshed, the unfairness of loved ones torn away. Her tears fell steadily for them all.

Gale pulled her even closer, until she was curled up in his lap, like Posy had curled up in her own. He kept one arm around her waist and held her head to his chest with his other hand, his fingers tangled in her hair. When she ran out of tears, she stayed frozen in place, unwilling to move ever again. She wanted to stay where she was, held safe from the horrors of the world. Gale rested his chin on the top of her head. His slow, even breaths stirred her hair.

* * *

Gale didn't know how much time had passed. Hours, days, years. Time ceased to matter. He didn't care that his legs had begun to tingle from Madge's weight. She needed to be held, so he held her, and he didn't question it.

"She'll be home soon," he said. "It's almost over."

* * *

Madge began to cry again. Of course she wanted Katniss to come home, but she knew it wouldn't end when that day came. What came next? How could she return to living the way she had before? Who would Katniss be when she returned? There were so many questions she was afraid to answer. Burning hotter than all the others, she asked herself what would happen to her and Gale? How could she give him up after what they'd been through together? She'd told him things she hadn't told anyone, not even Katniss. She'd let him past her stone defenses, shown him her weakness, and her fear. How could she go back to being a ghost, living without him, her ally, her...friend?

Most of all, she hated herself, because deep, deep down, she didn't want it to be over. She didn't want them to be over.

* * *

Eventually, Madge untangled herself and pulled away. She shifted to the far end of the couch, swiped her sleeve across her damp eyes, and tucked her legs under her skirt. Gale's arms felt empty without her.

"Where are your mom and Rory?" said Madge. Apart from a few sniffles, she sounded normal again. He knew her well enough by now to know that she didn't want to talk about her breakdown.

"At a birthing," he said. "Helping out Ms. Everdeen."

"And Rory volunteered to go?" said Madge in disbelief.

"It's his punishment for slacking off on his schoolwork," explained Gale. He remembered the few birthings he'd been forced to attend. Worse than a whooping and much more effective.

"Your mother's an evil genius," said Madge.

"Yeah, well, when you're raising four kids alone, you have to be a little creative."

Madge looked to the picture of his parents on the mantel. She stared at it for awhile, before turning back to him. "What was he like?" she said. "Your dad." Before Gale processed the question, she rushed on. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. You don't have to-"

"It's alright, Undersee," said Gale, surprising himself. He never talked about his father, not even with Katniss, not anymore. For some reason, though, he wanted to talk to Madge. Her big, blue eyes were an open invitation to say all of the things he'd kept bottled up. He let himself remember his father. The words flowed with ease. Telling Madge about his father, the memories didn't bring pain. He hadn't realized until then just how much he needed to talk about his dad, to share him with someone else.

* * *

Madge woke to a steady _thump thump thump_ in her ear. She didn't want to be awake. She was comfortable, even though her mattress felt harder than usual. For a moment, there were no Hunger Games, no fear, no pain. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so well-rested. Her body was light as air, muscles relaxed, head pleasantly fuzzy.

Then her mattress moved. Panicked, she opened her eyes. The room that greeted her wasn't her own. Sunlight streamed across a weathered, wood floor. She wasn't in her bed. She was stretched out over Gale Hawthorne, her cheek pressed to his chest, their legs tangled together. Her panic amplified. She sprung up, breaking free of his arms wound tightly around her waist.

"G'morning," said Gale, his eyes sleepy and only half-open.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" she snapped, anger creeping into her panic as she hopped around on one foot, trying to pull on her socks. According to the clock on the mantel, it was just after seven.

Gale propped himself up on his elbows. "You looked comfortable," he said. "Besides, I just woke up a few minutes ago."

Madge perched on the arm of the couch to tie her shoes, all the while cursing herself for falling asleep. She was dead. Beyond dead. Never in her life had she stayed out all night. She didn't even remember falling asleep. One second she'd been listening to Gale, and then the next she knew it was daylight.

* * *

Gale was still half-asleep when Madge rushed out the front door. "The interviews are in an hour. Don't be late," she said, before disappearing into the misty morning. As soon as she was gone, he closed his eyes again, planning to sleep for another thirty minutes. He'd spent most of the night wide awake. It wasn't exactly comfortable to have another person use you as a mattress, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to push Madge away. He still felt her weight covering him, the tickle of her hair under his chin. He was too tired to do anything about the morning wood she'd left him with. He was too tired to give _that_ much thought, either. Of course he was hard. It didn't have anything to do with her, not particularly. If any girl had been shifting around on top of him all night, his body would've reacted the same. Or so he told himself.

He was just drifting off, when the door swung open. "Someone's in trouble now," said Rory, stepping into the room. Gale cracked open one eye to look up at his smirking brother. Before he could ask what the boy was talking about, his mother marched through the door with murder in her eyes.

"Out," she snapped at Rory. "Get cleaned up." Still smirking, Rory went back outside, a spring in his step, to wash off at the water pump. Gale sat up to face his mother. He didn't understand why she looked three seconds away from strangling him. Hands on her hips, dried blood up to her elbows, she glared at him, as if waiting for him to explain himself.

"What did you do?" she finally said.

"Nothing," said Gale, yawning.

Hazelle's nostrils flared. That was never a good sign. She moved across the room in a flash and slapped him across the back of the head.

"Ow," said Gale, drawing away from her. "What was that for?"

"I know you're not a boy anymore," said Hazelle. "I know you go off to the Slag Heap with this girl and that girl."

Gale's mouth popped open in surprise. A wine red flush spilled over his cheeks. He knew that his mother knew about his extracurricular activities, but it wasn't something they'd ever openly discussed. "Ma, I don't-"

She thumped him again. "But Madge Undersee is not just any girl," she hissed. "What were you thinking? She's the mayor's daughter, for christsakes. More than that, she's a sweet girl and she's having a tough time of it lately. I thought I raised you better than to take advantage."

Understanding struck Gale like a bolt of lightning. His mother and Rory must have seen Madge fleeing from the house. He winced. Admittedly, it did look suspicious. "Nothing happened," he said. "I wouldn't...I don't even...We're not…" His blush deepened as he rambled on. Hazelle's eyes stayed narrowed. She studied him a moment, searching him for deceit.

"We just fell asleep," said Gale, remembering how to use his words.

"That's all you did?" said Hazelle

"I swear."

"Good," said Hazelle. She let her arms drop. "Because when I told you to be nice to her, I didn't mean-"

"I know," said Gale. He stood quickly. This was not a conversation that he wanted to continue for even a second longer. He darted past her, hurrying to his bedroom to get dressed for the interviews. _Me and Undersee,_ he thought, stepping out of his grass-stained slacks. The thought of being intimate with Madge was absurd. Sure, she was cute, and kissing her wasn't half bad, and he'd always had a soft-spot for girls with freckles...But they were allies. He supposed maybe they were even friends at this point. Nothing more. He loved Katniss and didn't want anyone else.

 _Me and Undersee,_ he thought again, on the verge of laughing out loud. _Ridiculous._

* * *

Madge snuck in through the kitchen door. Hopefully her father was already at the Justice Building. Hopefully he hadn't even come home the night before. It wasn't unusual for him to spend all night in the office, especially during the Games. The house was dark and she breathed a sigh of relief. There'd still be consequences for running out on the Capitolites, but at least no one had to know she hadn't come home until morning.

She was halfway across the kitchen, her nervous heartbeat just beginning to ease, when the lights came on, blinding her for a moment. Her eyes adjusted and she found Nedy leaning against the wall. "You left me with quite a mess last night," she said coolly.

Madge stood frozen, caught, in the middle of the room. "I'm sorry," she murmured, looking to her feet, unable to hold the maid's icy stare. "I just...I don't know. I couldn't listen to them talk anymore. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left. I-"

"Where were you?" said Nedy.

Madge grimaced. She said nothing. No lies came to her this morning.

"Let me guess," said Nedy. "With that Hawthorne boy. I told you to be careful around him. Never really thought you were foolish enough to become another notch on his headboard."

Madge's head shot up. She glared back at the maid. "We didn't do anything," she said, enraged by the accusation. Nedy eyed her up in down, taking in her wrinkled dress and tangled hair.

"As soon as the Games are over, he'll forget all about you," she said. The words too closely mirrored what Embry had told her just a few days ago. Madge was tired of hearing that she was being used.

"You don't know him," she said.

"Neither do you," said Nedy. Her expression softened a bit. "I'm only trying to look after you. You're young. I know how easily a boy can twist your thoughts around."

Young? Madge's anger spiked. She hadn't been young for a long time. She didn't need to be looked after, because she'd been taking care of herself for years. "You're not my mother," she said. "You're not my friend. You're my maid. Don't forget that."

A look of pain splashed over Nedy's face. In her anger, Madge didn't care. She stomped past the woman and didn't look back. Deep down, she knew that she wasn't really mad at Nedy. She was angry at herself for being every bit as foolish as Nedy accused her of being. Because she couldn't deny any longer that she was hopelessly, helplessly, head over heels for Gale Hawthorne.


	17. Who We Are

**AN:** Well, the "Hunger Games" part of this story is wrapping up. I haven't decided if I'm going to break off the next book into a separate story or just do them all as one. Either way, I've already got big plans for the "Catching Fire" installment :) Also, just a heads up, I'm probably going to change the title soon, as this story has run way of course from my original plot plans.

Endless gratitude for the reviews. I'm glad ya'll are still interested in this story!

* * *

"If someone sees you as something worth staying with-maybe you'll stay with yourself, too."

Gale hardly noticed the Capitolite stylist attempting to slick down his hair with a clear paste. The chemical smell of the stuff burned his nose. He breathed through his mouth. Delly was being interviewed on the steps of the Justice Building. Prim and Ms. Everdeen had already done their turn. Madge had yet to arrive. It wasn't like her to be late. Gale was beginning to worry when he caught a flash of blonde from the corner of his eye. He turned his head to see her racing across the courtyard.

"Hold still," the stylist said, forcing his head straight again. He tapped his foot impatiently, wishing they'd hurry up. Finally, after his eyebrows had been plucked and his face shaved clean of dark stubble, he was released. He went straight to Madge, standing alone a little apart from the Mellark family. She'd changed clothes, obviously in a hurry. Her tights bunched around her ankles like wrinkled skin. Stray curls spiralled loose from her messy bun. There was no color in her face. He wondered if she was late because her father had given her a lecture for staying out all night and deserting their guests from the Capitol.

"So, how much trouble are you in?" he said, sidling up next to her.

"None yet," she said. Her voice was off, strained. With renewed concern, Gale inspected her closely. If she wasn't in trouble, then why did she look like she'd just been whipped? Was it nerves? He remembered their last interviews. She'd been so composed then.

"Are you okay, Undersee?" he said.

"Fine."

"You don't seem like it."

"I'm trying to focus, that's all," she said, refusing to look at him. She stared ahead with an odd intensity.

"Madge," he said, "what's wrong?"

Before she could answer, assuming she even would, Twyla swooped in on them. "Goodness, you're a wreck this morning," the Capitolite woman said. She clutched Madge's arm and steered her away to the nearest stylist. Gale watched her trail along behind the woman with her head down, shoulders slumped. Had he said or done something yesterday to upset her? If so, he didn't have a clue what.

* * *

Madge didn't like what the Capitolites had done to Gale's hair. He looked all wrong without his cowlicks, but at least he wasn't scowling at the camera like last time.

"Are you surprised that Katniss made it this far?" said Twyla.

Gale flashed such a charmingly devilish smile that girls all across Panem were probably swooning right then. Madge's stomach did a little flip. _Stop that,_ she ordered, _just stop._

"Not at all," said Gale. "She's going to win. I knew that the moment she volunteered."

He was lying, of course. Madge had felt his doubts as keenly as her own over the past two weeks. It was a good lie, though. He seemed so confident, almost bored. She stopped listening to what he was saying. Sao, clearly peeved at being left to entertain herself yesterday, violently pushed down Madge's cuticles. Though her fingers were soon bleeding, Madge was oblivious to the pain. It was nothing compared to how she felt inside.

Instead of thinking on how she could help Katniss with the interview, as she should've been doing, her thoughts were stuck on Gale. _When the Games are over, we can go back to how things are supposed to be,_ he'd said that day he appeared at her backdoor in the rain, asking to be allies. _When the Games are over, we are over._ Those were the rules they'd both agreed to, but all she wanted was to rip that page from her journal, tear it to pieces, and toss the rules out the window. She was afraid that Embry and Nedy were right about him. Yesterday, she thought she knew him. Today, she wasn't certain of much, not her own feelings, and definitely not his. Yes, she liked him more than an ally, more than a friend, but where was she supposed to go from there? Where could she go?

The Games weren't over yet. Katniss was still fighting for her life in the arena and Madge felt like the worst of friends for being consumed with something as trivial as a crush. _It'll pass,_ she thought. Then Gale smiled at the camera again. Why did he have to be so handsome? Even worse, why did he have to be kind, and brave, and caring? Why couldn't he be the same rude and moody boy she'd always known, or thought she'd known? _You weren't supposed to fall for him._ Katniss wasn't supposed to be in the arena, Rue wasn't supposed to be dead before having the chance to live, her mother wasn't supposed to be insane.

After a lifetime of following the rules, Madge realized there was no such thing as _supposed to be._ The epiphany was like a bomb going off, one that had been ticking in her chest for years. There were no rules. Only chaos, and debris, and nothing to cling to.

* * *

Each time Gale smiled for the camera, he hated himself a little more. How Madge managed to do this all of the time, he had no idea. He used to think her weak. Now he understood the strength it took to smother your pride for the sake of someone else. In her own way, she was just as strong as Katniss. As the interview came to a close, and his energy flagged, he stole a glance at his ally for the strength to push through Twyla's final question. Madge held his gaze for less than a second. Then she closed her eyes. Even from a distance, he saw that she was shaking and worried she was about to fall out of her chair. He almost stood to go to her.

"When you see Katniss again, what's the first thing you'll tell her?" said Twyla. Gale forced his attention back to the camera. A thousand times over, he'd planned word for word what he would say to Katniss. _I love you. I've always loved you. I'll always love you._

"Nothing," he said quickly. "She'll be a celebrity when she comes home. She won't have time for the likes of me anymore."

Twyla laughed, but the joke felt flat to him. The moment she called cut, his smile burned out. He hurried across the courtyard, intent on catching Madge before she took her turn at the butcher's block. She was already walking towards the camera. As their paths crossed, he reached out to give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, but she sidestepped his touch. His fingers just barely grazed her sleeve.

* * *

Madge felt she was in the lake, sinking deeper and deeper. Her chest was tight. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Twyla's voice was distorted, like they were underwater. She was being asked a question, but couldn't make it out. How had she gotten here? How had everything changed in just a few weeks? She remembered standing in this very courtyard with Katniss on Reaping Day, remembered Katniss' hand slipping away from her own, and now she was the one slipping.

 _Say something. Say anything._ She couldn't speak. She saw a dark reflection of herself in the camera's lens and didn't recognize herself. Is this how her mother saw her? Is this how Gale would look at her a few days from now? Millions of people were watching her, waiting for her to speak, and yet none of them saw her.

* * *

Twyla repeated her question for a third time. "Did Katniss ever mention Peeta before the Games?"

Still Madge said nothing. She stared blankly at the camera, while Gale watched her flounder, helpless to do anything about it. Why wasn't she saying anything? What the hell was wrong with her? Her chest rose and fell in rapid waves, as if she was struggling to breathe. Despite her panic yesterday, he'd never doubted that when the time came, she'd deliver a flawless performance. She always did.

"I thought she was a bit touched in the head," someone behind him said. Gale whipped around to see the speaker, one of the Capitol stylists, the woman with pure white hair and a pinched, milky face. A cruel smile cut across her bloodless lips. There was a vindictive gleam in her eyes. She was enjoying this, watching Madge dangle, watching her fail.

"It must run in the family," said Sao. "Like mother like daughter."

Gale didn't know how the woman knew about Mrs. Undersee's condition. He didn't care, either. His only thought was how best to cause her pain. It was the Capitol's fault that Madge didn't have a mother. It was their fault that she was falling to pieces now. He took a step towards the woman, prepared to wrap his hands around that alabaster neck and squeeze the life out of her.

"No," hissed Delly, stepping between them. Gale hadn't noticed that she was nearby. She nodded past his shoulder. "Go after her, before you do something stupid." Gale tore his eyes away from the Capitolite woman, oblivious to the danger she was in, and looked to where Delly had nodded just in time to see Madge flee the courtyard.

"Go," said Delly, giving him a little push. Gale didn't need to be told again.

* * *

Madge didn't stop running until she came to the meadow. She collapsed in the tall grass and clutched her chest. Her heart pounded against the palms of her hands and she waited for it to burst free of her rib cage. She didn't hear Gale approach, but she wasn't surprised when he appeared, kneeling in front of her. His hands were heavy on her heaving shoulders.

"Breathe, Undersee. Calm down." he said.

Madge pushed him away. She didn't want him here. "I can't," she said, choking on her own voice.

"Sure you can," said Gale. He reached for her again. She scrambled backwards on her knees, holding up her hands against him.

"I can't," she said again. "I can't...do...this."

"Do what?" said Gale.

"My own mother doesn't know who I am. I don't know who I am. I've been pretending to be someone I'm not for so long and I can't anymore." Words spilled out of her in mutilated gasps as her breath returned to her. "I know we had a deal to go back to normal when this is all over, but nothing's ever going to be normal again and…" She paused a moment, then, barely more than a whisper, she said, "I don't want it to be. I don't want to just be your temporary place-holder for Katniss."

* * *

Gale sat back on his heels. So _that's_ what she was upset over. To him, those silly rules they'd come up with were a joke. He laughed before he could stop himself. Madge, looking hurt, rose to her feet and stomped off. She was halfway across the meadow by the time he recollected his self-control and caught up to her. He caught her arm and spun her around.

"Don't be stupid, Undersee," he said. She had never, not for a single moment, been a mere stand-in for Katniss. He wasn't confused about who she was. He didn't expect her to pretend with him. "You might not know who you are, but I do. You're my friend. I'm not going to ditch you when the Games are over and if you want to ditch me, well, you're going to have to try pretty damn hard."

Madge frowned as if she didn't believe him. "I'm your friend?" she said.

"Obviously," said Gale.

* * *

Obvious to him maybe, but not to her. She didn't have much to compare their relationship to. She only had Katniss and their friendship was unusual.

"Look," said Gale, "whatever happens, you and me, we're a team now. That isn't going to change. I promise."

Friends, allies, a team. She wanted more than that, though she couldn't put into exact words what more she wanted from him. Knowing he wouldn't disappear the moment the Games ended, she was satisfied enough for the moment. It frightened her how much she'd come to rely on him, as an ally, or a friend, or something else, in whatever way, as long as he was in her life. With him, she was never invisible. With him, she finally had a sense of herself.

Feeling like an idiot for getting so worked up over nothing, and calmed enough to think with some degree of rationality, she covered her face with her hands and groaned into them as the past hour caught up to her. "I froze," she said, voice muffled and mortified. "On live television. In front of the whole country."

* * *

Gale chuckled. "Yeah, you did," he said.

"It's not funny," she muttered.

"Kind of is. A little."

She glared at him through her fingers and he laughed again. There was the Madge he knew. He was relieved to see her again. "Don't stress about it. No one's going to remember in a few days. They'll be too busy celebrating Katniss' victory."

"I bet Embry Royce won't forget," she said. Gale pulled her hands away from her face. "So what? She's nothing," he said. Then, in a more serious tone, he added, "You can't be

perfect all the time, Undersee. If you were, you wouldn't be human."

* * *

Madge gave him a tentative smile. As awful as it was sometimes to be human, to be confused, and embarrassed, and overwhelmed, she still preferred it to the alternative, being a ghost.

"Come on," said Gale. He slung his arm across her shoulders, a friendly gesture that started her heart racing all over again. "Ma probably has lunch ready."

Instead of protesting against taking the little they had, instead of saying she wasn't hungry, and she wasn't, she let Gale lead her along to the Hawthorne home. He kept his arm around her shoulders the whole way and she leaned against him as much as she dared.

Posy ran out to greet them. She leapt at Madge like a puppy. All through lunch, she babbled, asking question after question, and not giving enough time in between for Madge to answer. When they finished eating, Mrs. Hawthorne sent the little girl outside with Vick to give Madge a break.

"I think Posy's in love with you," said Rory, as he and Madge washed the dishes.

Gale sat at the kitchen table with his head propped in his hands. She thought he'd fallen asleep, until he said to his brother, "I think you're in love with her, too. You've never volunteered to do the cleaning up before."

Madge blushed, but not as deeply as Rory. "Shut up," he grumbled.

Eyes still closed, Gale smirked. "Sorry, Ror, she's too good for you. Might want to set your set your sights a little lower. Prim's goat might be in your league."

Rory dropped the plate he was holding into the sink. Soapy water splashed the front of Madge's blouse. She leapt out of the way just in time as Rory lunged for his brother, knocking both Gale and his chair backwards. The younger boy was out-matched. It didn't take long for Gale to put him in a choke-hold. Madge was laughing so hard that she had to grip the counter to keep standing.

All the while, in the back of her mind, she replayed what Gale had said. _She's too good for you._ Maybe, just maybe, dare she hope, he felt something a little more than friendship towards her? She didn't have long to dwell on it. Posy returned and grabbed the tail of Madge's shirt to drag her into the living room. Mrs. Hawthorne was seated in a creaky rocking chair by the empty hearth with a tangle of gray yarn in her lap. The television flickered.

"Peeta's been in love with Katniss for as long as I can remember," Delly was saying onscreen. They were replaying the final interviews. Madge's high spirits plummeted. She didn't want to relive what had happened earlier today, but Posy had a firm hold on her.

"Sit wid me," she ordered, pushing at the back of Madge's knees to get her to the couch. As soon as Madge sat, the little girl crawled into her lap. She was trapped much as she'd been the night before. How could such a small person be so heavy? It defied all laws of nature.

* * *

Gale released a red-faced Rory and followed after Madge and Posy. "Scoot," he said to Vick, giving the boy's leg a nudge with his foot, so he could sit beside Madge. He didn't watch his own interview. Whoever that was on the screen, smiling and joking for the Capitolites' benefit, it wasn't him. Instead he watched his mother, and Posy with her thumb in her mouth, and Vick perched on the arm of the couch, and Rory slouching into the room, and he watched Madge Undersee, biting her nails and grimacing as her own image appeared on the television. He reached out to take her hand away from her mouth before she accidentally hurt herself. When she looked at him with those wide blue eyes, he smiled, squeezed her hand in silent reassurance.

 _This is who we are,_ he thought, _right here, right now._


	18. Let the Games Begin

"The feeling is less like an ending than just another starting point."

Chuck Palahniuk

If the Capitolites had complained to the mayor about his daughter's behavior, he didn't mention it to her. Madge almost wished for him to yell at her, punish her, notice her. She was relieved to see the Capitolites' train roll away from the platform. Most of them had refused to speak to her directly, which was fine by her. Only Twyla had given a goodbye.

"No hard feelings, dear," she'd said. "I do hope Katniss comes home soon." The woman looked for a moment as if she wanted to say more, but then she'd kissed Madge on both cheeks and boarded the train. Perhaps not everyone from the Capitol was heartless.

Madge hurried home. She checked on her mother, who was sound asleep in a morphling coma, before settling into her favorite chair in the parlor to watch the Games. The fox faced girl from Five was dead from a handful of poisoned berries. Her cunning was her downfall. She'd seen Peeta gathering the nightlock and assumed the berries must be safe. Thankfully, Katniss warned him before he made the same mistake as Foxface. Madge crossed the girl's name off of the tribute list. Four names remained: Thresh, Cato, Katniss, Peeta.

Deciding not to prolong the agony any longer, Katniss and Peeta made their way to the cornicopia, to Cato. They meant to bring the fight to him. As they trekked through the dense forest, night fell over them with unnatural swiftness. It appeared the Gamemakers were just as eager for the finale as the remaining tributes. _This is it,_ thought Madge. Come what may, this was the end.

* * *

The going was slow for the tributes from Twelve. Though Mellark's condition had improved from the medicine Katniss had nearly died retrieving from the Feast, he was obviously still in a great deal of pain and had to make frequent stops. Gale felt little sympathy for the baker's boy. He tapped his foot impatiently, ready for this nightmare to be over and done with already. He half hoped that Katniss would leave Mellark behind. At the same time, he knew she needed him to take on Cato and Thresh.

When the impatience grew to be too much, he stepped out onto the Everdeen's front stoop for a breath of fresh air. Prim followed him outside. For awhile, she watched him pace in silence. It was nighttime in the arena, but here in Twelve the sun blazed high in the sky.

"You should go watch with Madge," said Prim. Gale stopped pacing to face her.

"I'm not leaving you until this is over," he said. If anything happened to Katniss now, he needed to be here. Prim gave him a tired smile. She looked much older, so much wiser, than a girl of twelve years. He supposed all of them had aged in the past two weeks.

"I've got Mom," she told him. "We'll be fine."

Before the Reaping, he wouldn't have been reassured by Ms. Everdeen's presence, but like Prim, like all of them, she'd changed a great deal. She was no longer the empty shell she'd once been. Without Katniss around, she had finally stepped up. Still, Gale was hesitant to leave. What if Katniss died now in the final hours? Could Ms. Everdeen survive yet another devastating loss? _Can you?_ Gale asked himself.

"Go on," said Prim. "She shouldn't be alone. Katniss wouldn't want her to be."

Gale knew she was right. Prim had her mother. Even Katniss had Peeta. Truth be told, he wanted to be with Madge. She was his ally. It was only right they should face the end together. He pulled Prim into a bone-breaking hug and held her for a moment.

"She's going to win," said Prim, her voice muffled by his shirt. "Don't be afraid."

Gale let her go with reluctance. He was terrified, but tried not to let it show for Prim's sake. "You're sure you don't need me?" he said.

"Of course I do," said Prim. "But Madge needs you more. Besides, I think me and Mom should be alone for this."

Gale nodded. He wasn't offended. He understood. As much as he considered them family, they weren't really. If Katniss won, or if she lost, Prim and her mother would have to cope on their own. There wasn't much he'd be able to do for either of them. He hugged Prim one more time and kissed the top of her head, before setting out for town.

* * *

Cato caught up to Thresh at the edge of the grasslands. The two boys were evenly matched. Thresh had the advantage of size, but Cato had years of training. Thinking of Rue, Madge couldn't help rooting for the boy from Eleven, even though she knew he had to die for Katniss to survive. Cato's sword sliced through the air in a streak of steel and fury. His face showed no emotion, not even when Thresh managed to slash him across the ribs with the blade of his axe. The injury only seemed to make him fight harder.

When Cato's sword plunged into Eleven's heart, Madge covered her mouth to smother a cry. Thresh slumped lifeless to the ground. Cato towered over his body. Pressing one hand to his ribs to staunch the flow of blood, he used his other hand to free his sword from the dead boy's chest. There was sickening squelch, a splurt of blood, the boom of the cannon. Madge fought down a wave of nausea. She couldn't afford to faint as she had during the Bloodbath. Not now. Not this close to the end.

Cato started back to the cornicopia. His steps were labored. The wound Thresh had inflicted wasn't enough to kill him, but he was weakened. Madge had studied all of the tributes in great detail. She knew Cato was too arrogant to think the underdogs from District Twelve would come after him in the dark. He assumed he had time to recuperate from his fight with Thresh. Even so, wounded and caught off guard, Cato remained a serious threat, the last obstacle standing between Katniss and victory.

Madge heard footsteps on the stairs. She looked away from the television. Soon Nedy appeared in the doorway. They hadn't spoken since their disagreement. Madge wished she could take back what she'd said. An apology rose to the tip of her tongue, but Nedy spoke first.

"I gave your mother her dose of morphling," she said, tone formal. "If you don't need anything else, Ma'am, I'll be going now."

Madge swallowed her apology. It was too late, anyway. "Thank you," she said. "You can go." She turned her attention back to the television. Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith were discussing Cato's latest kill as a hovercraft came to retrieve Thresh's body from the arena.

"Now that's what I call a fight," said Flickerman. "I was certain that Thresh had him there for a moment."

"It's the farthest a tribute from Eleven has come for a long time," said Templesmith. "This has been a remarkable year for the outlying Districts."

Nedy didn't move to leave. Madge felt the maid's eyes still on her. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. "I can stay, if you want me to," she said. "I can watch with you."

Tears burned behind Madge's eyes at the offer. She was overcome by a surge of relief and gratitude. Without needing to apologize, Nedy had forgiven her. She looked to the maid again and gave her a watery smile. A part of her wanted to accept Nedy's offer, to have someone there to hold her hand through the end, but as much as she'd come to care for and appreciate the woman, Nedy's company couldn't make this any easier. She belonged with her own family, her husband and her infant son.

"Go home," said Madge. "I'll be alright."

"You're sure?" said Nedy. "I don't mind."

"It'll be over soon," said Madge. "Don't worry about me. Go be with your son."

Nedy pursed her lips, but she didn't argue. "Then I guess I'll see you tomorrow, Ma'am," she said, backing out of the room.

"Call me Madge, please."

Nedy paused, then she strode across the room, bent over, and wrapped her arms around the sad and lonely girl. Madge sank into the hug, a mother's hug, warm and protective. "Come find me if you need to," said Nedy, pulling away.

* * *

Gale rounded the corner onto the Undersee's street. He was so distracted by thoughts of the Games, he didn't see the mayor's maid until he nearly collided into her.

"Sorry," he muttered, trying to step around her. Nedy blocked his path. Hands on her hips, she eyed him sternly.

"My sister's told me all about you Hawthorne," she said. "I know your reputation."

Gale grimaced. So that's why she disliked him. He met her hard stare. There was something familiar about her face. Where had he seen that slightly off-center nose and those thin, angry lips before?

"Just tell me one thing," she said. "Do you care about her? And I mean honestly care."

Gale didn't need to ask who she was talking about. It could only be one person. "Yeah, I do," he said.

"You're not just playing with her until the Games are over?" said Nedy.

Gale bristled. Whatever her sister had told her, whatever she thought she knew, she didn't really know him and he wished she'd stop assuming to. "Madge is my friend," he said, a touch of anger to his voice. "I'd never hurt her." Never again, at least. He knew well enough that he'd hurt her in the past, but that was before he really knew her.

"Good," said Nedy. She took a step closer and poked him hard in the chest. "Because if you do, I'll skin you alive. Got that?"

"Yeah," said Gale, smiling a little despite himself. He didn't like the mayor's maid, but it was good to know that someone else was looking after Madge. He couldn't begrudge her for that. Nedy stepped aside to let him pass.

"Hurry along then," she said. "Just remember I've got my eyes on you."

Gale rushed past her. He made it to the mayor's door, and then stopped, looking back just in time to see Nedy disappear around the corner. Suddenly he realized why she looked so familiar. That off-center nose, those thin and angry lips, were identical to Embry Royce's. He wondered if Madge knew that her staunchest defender was the sister of her main tormentor.

* * *

Madge went to the kitchen for some water. She wasn't thirsty, just needed to stretch her restless legs. A part of her hoped that Katniss and Peeta would never reach the cornicopia. The other part wished they'd hurry up. She over filled her glass, switched off the faucet, and took a careful sip. When she closed her eyes, she saw Thresh's limp body being lifted from the arena. What did the Capitol do with the tributes' corpses? They weren't returned to the families. She'd never wondered until now. Where was her aunt? Rotting in a ditch, buried in an unmarked grave, food for the fish at the bottom of the ocean?

Madge shook her head to clear it of unwanted images. She didn't want to think of the tributes that way, tossed out like waste. Maybe she should've let Nedy stay to distract her from such macabre thoughts. She returned to the empty parlor. Only it wasn't empty anymore.

* * *

Gale stood in the middle of the room, uncomfortable and out of place amidst all of the fine furniture. He held his shoes and socks in one hand, having taken them off so as to not leave coal tracks on the richly threaded carpet. He'd followed the sound of the television to the parlor, expecting Madge to be there. When he found that she wasn't, he meant to keep looking for her, but got swept up by the image on screen. A close up of Katniss' dirt smudged and determined face. The picture was so much clearer, painfully life-like, than any other television he'd seen.

Someone cleared their throat behind him and, spinning around, he remembered where he was. To his relief, it was just Madge. "I knocked, but no one answered, so I let myself in," he said. "Hope you don't mind."

Madge didn't look surprised to see him. She didn't look entirely happy, either. "You should be with Primrose," she said.

"I was. She sent me here," he said. "I can go if you want me to."

Madge bit her bottom lip, something she only did when she was thinking hard.

* * *

Sending Nedy away was one thing. She didn't have the strength to do the same with Gale, even though she knew she should. Madge didn't want him to leave, but surely, whatever Primrose had said, the Everdeens needed him more. She opened her mouth to tell him to go back to Katniss' sister. Instead, her tongue took on a will of its own, and she said, "No, please don't."

Gale perched on the edge of the couch. Madge settled onto the cushion beside him. Neither of them said anymore. They didn't need to. This wasn't the time for conversation. All that was left for them to do was watch and wait.

* * *

Katniss strung her bow as they neared the edge of the Cornicopia clearing. The Gamemakers hadn't shown Cato in an hour, no doubt to heighten the suspense. _One clean shot to the head_ , thought Gale, leaning forward, _that's all she needs._ He hoped she wouldn't go for the heart. Her arrows didn't stand a chance against Cato's body armor. The last-standing Career wasn't slowed by his muscular bulk. He could be on them in a second. Any minute now, he might lunge out of the shadows.

A shape did lunge, but it was no human. Twice as large as Cato, moving on all fours, the biggest dog Gale had ever seen leapt at Peeta. The baker's boy let out an ear-piercing shriek as four inch fangs tore into his already injured leg. Katniss loosed her arrow, hitting the beast right between the eyes. "RUN!" she screamed. Somehow, despite his mangled leg, Peeta managed to follow her order. They broke out into open territory, racing for the cornicopia, as more giant dogs appeared. They were unnaturally fast, unnaturally large.

"Mutts," growled Gale. Apparently, the Gamemakers didn't think the stakes were high enough. The Capitol-made monsters snapped and snarled. Katniss fired behind her, but she couldn't afford to look back, and her arrow flew wide. She knew better than to try again and waste her dwindling supply of arrows. The dogs were gaining on them. _They'll never make it,_ thought Gale, heart pounding. He forgot about everything outside of the arena, until Katniss made it to the cornicopia and scrambled up the slick, metal sides. She dropped her bow to grab Peeta's arms and pull him up behind her. For a moment, Gale held his breath, waiting to see just how far the Capitol mutts could leap. They threw themselves at the cornicopia, yowling as they slammed against metal, unable to reach the top.

Gale let the air from his lungs. Only then did he notice that Madge was shaking fiercely. He glanced at her shock-white face, her hands fisted in her lap, nails cutting into her palms. Suddenly, he remembered she was terrified of dogs, and these particular ones were enough to give him nightmares.

"It's alright. Those mutts can't reach them now," he said, wrapping his arm around her and tucking her trembling body close to his. Madge burrowed her face against his shoulder.

"Their eyes," she whimpered. Gale looked back to the screen to see what she was talking about. The camera zoomed in on the smallest of the mutts with curly, black fur. It's eyes were just as unnatural as the rest of it. Human eyes. Rue's eyes, filled with hatred and bloodlust. Sickened by the sight, Gale ducked his head. He stared hard at Madge's golden hair, wishing to forget what he'd seen, and knowing that he never would.

* * *

Katniss yelled and Madge forced herself to look at the screen again. Cato must have been waiting atop the cornicopia. He had his hands around Katniss' throat. Her head hung over the edge of the cornicopia and the awful mutts snapped at the end of her braid. Their long and sharp toothed jaws came dangerously close. _No,_ Madge thought desperately, gripping Gale's shirt with both hands, _no, it can't end like this._ Katniss stopped clawing at Cato's hands. Her eyes bulged as she struggled for the smallest breath of air.

Then Cato was knocked aside. The camera lingered on Katniss, gasping and coughing, struggling to rise. She grabbed her bow and nocked an arrow as she stood. The camera followed the line of her aim to Cato, teetering on the edge of the cornicopia, with his arm curled around Peeta's neck.

"Go ahead," said Cato. "Shoot me and lover boy dies too."

* * *

"Do it," said Gale, not realizing he spoke aloud. "Kill him."

* * *

Madge had stopped trembling. She drew back just enough to see Gale's face. His expression sent icy fear along her spine. The fury in his seam gray eyes was unlike anything she'd seen before. In that moment, she was almost more afraid of him than the Capitol mutts.

* * *

Katniss hesitated. _You don't have a choice,_ Gale thought at her. _End it._ Mellark was likely to bleed to death, anyway. But then the baker's boy drew a bloody X on the back of Cato's hand. Gale understood his silent message. So did Katniss. She repositioned her mark and let her arrow soar. It struck the bloody X dead center. Cato released his hold on Peeta, giving the baker's boy just enough time to elbow him hard in the stomach. Cato stumbled back a step. His feet met empty air and he fell straight into the pack of mutts below.

* * *

Madge couldn't bear Cato's screams, the sound of tooth and claw shredding leather and flesh. She hid her face against Gale's neck again.

"It's over," he said. "It's over." Again and again, he repeated those two words, as if trying to convince himself. But it wasn't over. Cato screamed on and on, begging for an end. Madge silently screamed with him. She felt it'd never be over. An hour passed. Two hours. She wanted to mute the speakers, but couldn't move.

No one deserved such a death. Not even a Career. In his screams, she felt his pain, felt her own skin being stripped away, until there was nothing left but a bloody pulp. She didn't have to wonder what the Capitol would do with his body. There'd be nothing left of him.

* * *

"Please," Cato cried. "Please."

Gale didn't look away. Not for a single second. He forced himself to commit every broken bone, and every mangled hunk of flesh and veins, to memory. The Capitol was evil. He would never let himself forget that. _Someday,_ he swore, _I'll make them feel this pain. I'll make them beg for their lives._

Finally, Katniss approached the edge of the cornicopia. She sent an arrow of mercy through Cato's skull. One quick, clean shot to the head. Gale would not be so generous with the Capitol when the time came.

* * *

The cannon sounded one last time. When Madge looked up from Gale's shoulder, daylight filled the arena. The horrible dogs with their stolen eyes were gone. Katniss and Peeta had descended the cornicopia. Both of them appeared on the verge of collapse. They stared at each other, dazed. A few minutes ticked by.

"Something's wrong," said Madge. She felt it in her bones, in the silence of the arena. The Gamemakers didn't usually hesitate to declare the victor.

"Attention tributes," Claudius Templesmith's voice boomed across the clearing. Madge braced herself. Why didn't the Capitol just end it? Hadn't they had enough yet? "The previous rule change allowing for two victors has been revoked. This will be the last announcement."

No, of course the Capitol wasn't finished. They'd never have their fill of suffering. Oddly enough, Madge wasn't surprised. It was as if she'd known all along that the rule change was too good to be true, another trick, another torment. Katniss raised her bow at Peeta. It was an act of survival, of instinct. It was the only way. Madge knew what would happen next. When she looked at the close up of Peeta, she saw that he knew too. His pale face was resigned, almost willing. He didn't put up a fight.

"Go ahead," he said, his voice weak, but steady. "I'm going to die, anyways. I've lost too much blood."

Too much had happened in the past hour for Madge to feel anything more. If Katniss killed him now, and she had no choice, then she'd never forgive herself. How could she be? Peeta was her ally and now she had to put an arrow through his heart. She'd be as good as dead when she came home. No one survived the Games. Not really. The Capitol made sure of that.

"Do it, Katniss," said Peeta. "It was always going to be you."

* * *

Gale squeezed Madge's hand too hard. He stared into Peeta Mellark's eyes, dull with acceptance, and for the first time he felt no resentment towards the baker's boy. Right then, he admired Mellark. He accepted that everything Madge had said about the boy was true. From day one, Peeta had done everything in his power to keep Katniss alive.

For a moment, while Katniss hesitated yet again, obviously torn, Gale imagined what he'd do if their roles were reversed, if it was him and Madge in the arena instead. _Could I kill her? My ally, my friend._ He squeezed her hand even harder, glad it was a choice he'd never have to make.

* * *

"No," said Katniss. The word shook Madge out of her numb trance. Stunned, she watched Katniss throw her bow to the ground. She closed the distance between herself and Peeta, took a handful of blue-black berries from her pocket, and poured half of them into his hand. Peeta's eyes widened in horrified understanding.

"Do you trust me?" said Katniss.

"Always," said Peeta. "Together?"

"Together."

Tears streamed down Madge's face. Gale tensed beside her. Neither of them had predicted this. She was certain that no one in Panem could've predicted it. Through her tears, she smiled. _It's better this way,_ she thought, as Katniss and Peeta lifted their hands to their mouths. Katniss wasn't a traitor. She wasn't a killer. The Capitol could torture her, murder her, but they couldn't change her into something she wasn't.

* * *

Gale thought of all the things he'd never told Katniss, all of the things he'd never tell her, and his heart stopped. The earth itself seemed to stop. _I love you. I've always loved you. I'll always love you._ He hoped beyond reason that she could somehow hear him.

As soon as the berries passed her lips, Claudius Templesmith's panicked voice burst from the speakers. "Wait!" he cried. "Ladies and Gentlemen, we have our victors for the 74th Annual Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark of District Twelve."

Katniss and Peeta fell to their knees, spitting out the berries onto the dewy grass. They threw their arms around each other and held fast even as the hovercraft appeared above. Gale's heart didn't start up again until the claw descended, swept them up, and began to lift them from the arena.

* * *

Madge untangled herself from Gale to turn off the television. She didn't want to hear Flickerman and Templesmith discuss this unprecedented finale. For a long time, she and Gale sat in silence, neither of them quite believing what had just happened. Where was the relief she'd expected? Katniss and Peeta were alive. Against all odds, they had won, so why did she still feel like the Games weren't over yet?

"The Capitol won't be happy about this," said Gale darkly. He didn't sound relieved, either.

"No," agreed Madge. "They won't."

Katniss had beat them at their own game. They'd never forgive her for it.

* * *

 **AN:** Maybe two or three chapters left of this installment and then on to Catching Fire. As always, thank you so much for the kind reviews. I almost hate what I'm going to do to you all next, but alas, I do not believe in happy endings... Where's the drama in that? Sorry in advance, my dearests.


	19. Stand Still

**AN:** I wanted to give you a long and happy chapter before...Well, you'll find out soon enough.

 **P.S. Just to clarify some things...** Last chapter, I said I don't believe in happy endings, which isn't entirely true, but I do believe in a degree of realism (which is one of the reasons I love Suzanne Collins). Obviously Gale has certain feelings towards Madge, but they haven't reached "love" yet. I want to stay to true to the characters. At all costs, I will avoid the trope of "Gale loves Katniss, but then BAM, out of basically nowhere, he 100% loves Madge instead." He doesn't strike me as wishy-washy when it comes to his emotions and this will be more of a gradual (yeah, probably painful) process for him.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

"And then the day came, when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."

Anais Nin

Gale struck out for the woods before daybreak. He spent most of the morning fletching new arrows for Katniss' return. Working with his hands always helped him think. He still had trouble believing she'd be home by the end of the week. His emotions flip-flopped between elation and dread. More than anything, he wanted to know what was going through her head when she pulled out that handful of nightlock. Was it possible she actually cared for Peeta Mellark? Were all those kisses in the caves genuine? He wouldn't know until he spoke to her.

One thing, however, he knew for sure. The berries hadn't been a direct rebellion against the Capitol. Katniss hated their overlords just as much as him, but she'd always stood rooted on the side of caution. Whenever he went off on one of his rants about overthrowing the Capitol, she scoffed at him, said it was impossible. She feared rebellion and the inevitable consequences. She was always quick to remind him of District Thirteen. "That's what will happen to us if we rise up," she told him. "I just want to keep my family safe."

Sometimes her complacency irritated him. Was it possible being in the arena had changed her mind? Gale doubted it. Most likely, she hadn't killed Peeta simply because she couldn't. She was too loyal to turn on an ally. _She doesn't love him,_ he tried to assure himself. _She can't love him._

Gale cut too hard. The stick in his lap split and his knife tore the thin skin between his thumb and index finger. He sucked on the wound until the blood stopped flowing, and then hastily bandaged his hand with a scrap of cloth, before gathering a dozen of his new arrows and heading out on a hunt.

* * *

Katniss' stylist had put her in a pink baby-doll dress for the victors' interview. Her hair hung in loose curls around her bare shoulders. All of her scars were gone. She looked fresh and rosy-cheeked, the perfect image of a sweet, young girl who was madly in love with the boy sitting next to her. She and Peeta held hands throughout the entire interview.

"I just couldn't imagine life without him," said Katniss, smiling at Peeta. Madge didn't believe a word of it, but the Capitol would. She was thankful for Katniss' stylist. He seemed to understand what was at stake now. No more flaming dresses. It was time for the fire to be doused, before it grew out of control and burned them all.

"Madge?"

Madge startled. It'd been almost a year since she'd heard that voice say her name. She looked to her mother leaning heavily against the doorframe. Mrs. Undersee's nightgown hung wrinkled and baggy over her skeletal frame. Her hollow, blue eyes stared back at Madge with recognition that hadn't been there for a very long time.

"Mom," said Madge, leaping to her feet. She ran across the room and threw her arms around her mother's bony shoulders. Mrs. Undersee stiffened in the embrace at first, and then slowly, tiredly, returned it. She stroked Madge's hair the way she used to. After a minute, Madge forced herself to pull away and led her mother to the couch. "You should sit. Do you need anything? Something to drink, something to eat? You're cold. Let me get you a shawl."

Mrs. Undersee caught Madge's hand when she tried to leave. "No," she said. "Just sit with me."

Madge was happy to comply. She curled up against her mother. This moment of lucidity wouldn't last long. They never did. She didn't want to miss a second of it.

"Is that Katniss Everdeen?" said Mrs. Undersee.

"Yeah," said Madge. She twined her fingers through her mother's. "She won the Games. She's coming home soon."

"Oh," said Mrs. Undersee, her voice beginning to drift. "Good for her."

Madge looked at her mother's face and saw the light fading from her eyes. _Not yet_ , she thought. _Let her stay a little longer._ "I miss you, Mom," she said. Mrs. Undersee gave her a knee an absent-minded pat.

"Don't be silly, May. I haven't gone anywhere."

A sob snared in Madge's chest. There was no way of knowing when, or if, her mother would come back again.

* * *

Gale ducked through the fence with a full game bag. He had enough to trade for the new shoes Vick needed. Winter was coming. The boy couldn't go barefoot much longer. As he made his way to the Hobb, he noticed the change in the atmosphere. District Twelve buzzed with excitement. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen so many smiling faces. Strangers and acquaintances approached to pat him on the back, shake his hand, and say, "That's our girl." Their pride and joy was infectious. For awhile, he let himself forget about the damn berries and what happened next.

 _That's my girl,_ he thought, moving with a new stride in his step. Katniss had brought something to District Twelve that hadn't existed there for years. He saw hope in the eyes of the people and suddenly the future didn't seem so dim.

* * *

Rory and Vick were hanging up the wash when Madge arrived at the Hawthorne house.

"Gale's probably at the Hobb by now," said Rory as soon as he spotted her. He tossed the damp shirt in his hands to his brother. "I can take you to him."

"You're supposed to help me," said Vick. Rory waved off the boy's whining. Madge suspected he was eager for any opportunity to ditch his chores. She didn't mind being the opportunity.

"So, are you going to the party tonight?" said Rory as they made their way through the seam. The grim atmosphere of the place, which Madge had come to expect, was replaced with bubbling excitement. She'd left her house, and her mother, with a heavy heart, but walking along with Rory, she found a sense of peace.

"What party?" she said. Rory gawped at her.

"For the victors," he said, clearly surprised she hadn't heard of it. "Everyone's going to be there. It's crazy, isn't it? We haven't had a victor in Twelve since Haymitch Abernathy and now we get two in one year."

Madge smiled at him. Like most people, he didn't seem to understand the significance of Katniss' trick with the berries. Or maybe he simply didn't care. Madge decided there was plenty of time to think of the future. For now, she just wanted to be part of the celebration. Katniss was coming home. They could deal with the rest as it came.

* * *

Gale exchanged two squirrels, a quart of mushrooms, and the better half of a rabbit for Vick's new shoes. He expected to pay more, but Marlo was in a generous mood. All of the vendors were. As he was passing the old man with the books, the man called out to him. "Here boy," he said, shoving the moldy-covered copy of _Romeo and Juliet_ into Gale's hands.

"I can't pay for this," said Gale.

The vendor flashed a toothless grin. "Ain't no one else can, either," he said. "You're pals with our very own Juliet, so you may as well have it. I will kiss thy lips; haply some poison yet doth hang on them."

Gale looked at the man like he was insane.

"Just read the damn thing," the man said. "You'll understand."

Gale doubted he'd ever read the book, but he tucked it into his bag, eager to get away. "Hip, hip hooray for the star-crossed lovers of District Twelve," the man said as Gale hurried over to Greasy Sae's stall. All around the Hobb, others took up the cheer.

"It's madness today," said Sae, shaking her grizzled head. "Never seen the place so lively."

Gale handed her the last of his rabbits and took the bowl she offered in exchange. There were good chunks of meat and carrot in the stew today. For the first time since Reaping Day, he felt completely content. Sae's customers bantered happily around him.

"Well, I'll be," said Sae, wiping her hands on her apron. She stared past Gale's shoulder with a mildly surprised gaze. In all the time he'd known her, he had never seen her taken by surprise. "What I tell you? Madness indeed."

Gale glanced behind him and choked on a mouthful of stringy hare at the sight of Madge and Rory making their way through the crowd. He and Sae weren't the only ones staring in wonder at the mayor's daughter. Half of the Hobb was watching them now. Curious mutters raced around the large, open room.

* * *

"Everyone's staring at us," whispered Madge.

"Not _us_ ," said Rory. "They're staring at _you._ Not every day the mayor's daughter comes to the black market, you know."

Madge turned beet red. She ducked her head against a hundred pairs of curious eyes. Rory spotted some friends from school. "Gale's right over there," he said, pointing to the left. "See you tonight, Undersee. I'll save a dance for you." Then he was gone, leaving her alone in this strange, forbidden place. Madge quickened her step. She didn't look up again until a strong hand gripped her upper arm.

"You sure know how to make an entrance," said Gale. He had a dribble of soup at the corner of his lips. Without thinking, she reached up to wipe it away.

* * *

Madge's eyes fell to the ground as her arm dropped to her side. The blush already in her cheeks spread to the collar of her dress. Gale's lips tingled where she'd touched him. He couldn't help wondering just how far down that blush extended.

"You, uh, had a bit of...um…" she stammered.

"Thanks," said Gale. He remembered they were still being watched. There'd be plenty of talk about the two of them now. He expected his mother would have more to say to him about the mayor's daughter when she heard. _So what?_ Let people talk. He didn't care. Not today. "Come on, I want you to meet someone."

He led her over to Greasy Sae's stall. Someone had already taken his stool, but as soon as they approached, the man leapt down and offered it to Madge. She murmured a shy thank-you and, shaking a little from nerves, took the seat. Gale steadied her with a hand to the middle of her back.

"Relax," he said, leaning close so as to not be overheard by the others, who'd stopped eating to eavesdrop. "You're with me. No one's going to bother you."

Madge turned to look at him. Her blue eyes, so out of place here, glowed with trust and warmth. Looking into them, Gale caught a glimpse of something he should've noticed days ago. The way she smiled at him, the way she'd touched him just a few minutes ago...he'd seen and felt it too many times before. In a flash, he went over the past week in his head, cutting out all the parts related to the Games, and it all seemed so obvious in hindsight. Somewhere along the way, Madge Undersee had fallen for him. _Probably shouldn't have kissed her,_ he thought, looking away first.

He was grateful when Greasy Sae shuffled over to them. He'd consider what to do about Madge Undersee's crush later. "Sae, this is Madge U-"

"I know who she is, boy," said Greasy Sae without looking at him. Her milky eyes were fixed squarely on Madge. She sized the girl up for a minute and then bestowed one of her once-in-a-decade smiles. "Have some stew," she said, sliding a steaming bowl across the counter.

Madge's hand flew to the little purse tied to her belt. She held out a few coins, more than the soup was worth. Greasy Sae refused to take them. "You don't pay here," she said. "If it weren't for you, my great-grand baby would've died of the sweating sickness last summer."

"But-"

Gale nudged Madge in the ribs. "No point arguing with her," he said. Madge looked determined to try again, so he hurried on, changing the subject. "So, you grow vegetables for the orphanage and give medicine to people you've never met. What else do you do, Miss Mayor?"

Madge turned red again. Greasy Sae let out a cackle. "She does plenty," the old woman said. "Stop being so shy, girl. You ain't got nothing to worry about here. Gale might be a blind fool, but most of these people know what all you've done for 'em and they love you for it."

Gale took in the room, all the people watching Madge, and saw that Greasy Sae spoke the truth. She was right, too, about him being a blind fool.

* * *

As Gale walked her home from the Hobb, Madge couldn't stop thinking about what Greasy Sae had said. _These people know what all you've done for 'em and they love you for it._ Happiness tingled just beneath her skin. All these years, she'd assumed the people of the seam resented her the way Embry's gang did, the way Gale once had. She didn't give to them in expectation of praise or affection. Still, it was nice to know there were plenty of people, strangers really, who appreciated her, even loved her.

* * *

Madge didn't speak much on the walk home. She wore a dreamy smile. Her cheeks were still tinged with pink. Gale stole glances at her every couple of seconds. His thoughts returned to her feelings towards him. Three weeks ago, before the Reaping, he would have teased her ruthlessly. Just a few days ago, he would've teased her light-heartedly. Now, though, he seriously considered the idea of him and Madge as a couple. Seam and town didn't often mingle, but it wasn't unheard of. Just look at Ms. Everdeen.

Of course, Ms. Everdeen hadn't been the mayor's daughter. Oddly enough, Gale discovered he didn't care much about that anymore. Madge was...just Madge. She was generous, brave, smarter than anyone had a right to be, and determined. She plowed through hardship without bitterness or complaint. And yeah, she was goddamn gorgeous. Any guy would be lucky to have her. _But me?_ thought Gale. _What the hell does she see in me?_

His feelings for Katniss remained as strong as ever, yet he knew the odds weren't in their favor. Not anymore. After the stunt with the berries, her life depended on keeping up the star-crossed lovers routine with Peeta Mellark. The Capitol would never stop watching her. Every year, the pair of them would be dragged out as mentors, their love story splashed across the big screen again. Ultimately, she'd have to marry the baker's boy. Gale hated the thought. He hated Mellark. Most of all, he hated the Capitol. This wasn't how anything was supposed to go.

But this is how it was. He couldn't change a damn thing, at least not before it was too late. Gale glanced at Madge again. Katniss was out of reach. Madge Undersee was right here. All he had to do was take her hand, swinging a mere few inches from his own. He didn't love her, not the way he loved Katniss, but she was good for him. She made him happy. Being with her brought him comfort and he thought, maybe, he could love her someday if he was willing to give it a try.

Gale stopped suddenly. They were almost to her house. "Hold up," he said, before he lost his nerve.

* * *

"Yeah?" said Madge. She was confused by the way he looked at her, almost afraid. He stuffed his hands deep into his pockets, scuffed his boot against the pavement, but didn't say anything for a bit. Finally, he released a sigh.

"So, there's a party tonight," he said.

"I know," said Madge, growing more confused by the second. Why was he acting so strange? He wasn't looking at her anymore. His eyes darted everywhere, but her face.

"I was thinking, if you wanted, we might could…"

Warmth pooled in Madge's belly as she sensed where he was going. "Yeah?" she said again, a little breathless, trying and failing not to get her hopes up.

* * *

 _Christ, Hawthorne,_ Gale snapped at himself. _It's not like you've never asked a girl out before._ He already guessed at Madge's answer. If the hopeful way she said _yeah_ was any indicator, she wasn't going to turn him down. That's what scared him. This might be one of the worst ideas he'd ever had. He'd promised his mother, and the mayor's maid, and himself that he wouldn't hurt her, and if this whole dating thing went awry, well, he'd probably have half of the District to answer to. If it went right…

Gale took a deep breath. He met Madge's anxious blue gaze and said, "Do you want to go with me?"

Her whole face lit up. Whether they worked out or not, the risk was worth it, just to see her as happy as she was now. She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, said nothing, and finally nodded.

"Alright," said Gale. "I'll pick you up at 8."

Absolutely tongue tied, Madge nodded again. He couldn't help chuckling at her reaction, like she'd never been asked on a date before. Then again, he supposed maybe she hadn't. He turned to leave, but then, on an impulse from nowhere, he spun back around and planted a kiss on her cherry-red cheek.

"I hope you find your voice again by then, Undersee," he teased, before turning around again and setting off quickly for home.

* * *

Madge was ready an hour early, but she kept running back upstairs to check herself in the full length mirror. Finally, Nedy took her by the shoulders and sat her down at the kitchen table. She made two cups of tea, set one before Madge, and then took the seat opposite her.

"I don't need to give you the talk, do I?" said Nedy. "You do know how babies are made, right?

Madge snorted tea up her nose. Scalding liquid trickled along the back of her throat. She quickly patted dry the front of her dress, before a stain set in and she had to change again. "Yes, I know how babies are made," she said "Why do you always assume I'm going to sleep with him? I'm not even sure this is a date." After all, Gale hadn't used the word.

Nedy rolled her eyes. "It's a date," she said. "I just want to make sure you're prepared. If you get knocked up, your father'll have a cow."

"He probably wouldn't even notice," muttered Madge.

"He would eventually. It's not something you can hide for long."

Madge took another sip of tea. There was a hint of peppermint. She glanced at the wall clock for the hundredth time. 7:52. "Look, I know you don't approve of him," she said, looking back to the maid. "But he's not as bad as the gossip about him. He's…"

"Older," Nedy finished for her.

"Only by two years."

"More experienced," said Nedy. She arched an eyebrow. "Or is that part of the gossip not true?"

Madge ducked her head to hide a blush. No, that _part_ was true enough. "He want push me into anything I don't want to do," she said certainly.

"That's what I'm worried about," said Nedy. "You might find yourself wanting."

"I won't," said Madge, not quite so certain. "It's only our first date," she hurried on. "I'm not stupid. I won't let anything happen. We're just going to go to the party, and then-" A knock on the door cut her short. She leapt up from the table and practically ran to the door. Somehow, Nedy beat her there.

* * *

The Undersee's maid opened the door and eyed him up and down. "You clean up alright, Hawthorne," she said.

"Thanks, I guess," said Gale. He caught a glimpse of Madge standing behind the woman, but Nedy didn't seem ready to move out from between them quite yet.

"You'll have her home by midnight," said Nedy. It was an order, not a question.

"Yes, Ma'am," he said, giving her a mock salute. Unamused, the maid scowled.

"And no funny business," she added. "You keep your hands to yourself. If I hear they've been wandering where they shouldn't, I'll-"

"Alright," grumbled Madge, shouldering past her maid. Her face was redder than Gale had ever seen it, which was saying something.

"Don't worry," he said, meeting Nedy's hawkish stare. "I'll behave if she does."

"You're not funny, Hawthorne," snapped Nedy. She slammed the door on them.

* * *

Too mortified to speak, Madge glared at her feet. After a bit, Gale cleared his throat. "She's a lovely woman," he said.

"I'm going to kill her later," said Madge.

"Don't do anything rash," said Gale. "Besides, she's not entirely wrong to be concerned. I might have a hard time keeping my hands from wandering where they shouldn't. You're kind of tempting in that dress."

Every nerve in Madge's body sparked. "Shut-up, Hawthorne," she said, swinging out her harm to slap him across the stomach. Gale caught her hand before it landed and didn't let go. She finally risked looking at him. His blue button down shirt and slacks were ironed. Other than that, he was much the same always. Devil-may-care perfect. His black hair curled just above his collar. His smoky grey eyes held a mischievous gleam. Madge swallowed hard.

"Nervous, Undersee?" he asked, the corner of his lips quirked in that crooked grin that made her legs feel as shaky as a newborn foal's.

"No," she lied.

"I am," he said. Madge didn't believe him.

* * *

The party was in full swing by the time they arrived. Gale saw people from town and people from the seam mingled together, chatting and laughing, drinking and dancing. Katniss and Peeta's victory had torn down the divide. For tonight, at least.

"Guess Rory was right," said Madge. "It looks like the whole District is here." She sounded nervous again. Large crowds, he guessed, weren't exactly her thing. Before he could say something reassuring, someone shouted his name. The next thing he new, Thom and his girlfriend Bristel pounced on them.

"I told you it was true," said Thom. He grinned from Gale to Madge. "Told you he was bringing the mayor's daughter."

Bristel elbowed him in the ribs. She turned to Madge. "Ignore him," she said. "A feral pig has better manners."

"Hey now," said Thom. "I've got manners." As if to prove himself, he bowed low to Madge, his hand almost sweeping the ground. "Miss Undersee, it's an honor to make your acquaintance. I don't know if Gale's told you about me, because he sure as hell keeps pretty tight lipped about you, but we've known each other since we were tots, running around in the nude, so if you've got any questions about what he's got down between the-"

Bristel elbowed him again. She smiled sympathetically at Gale, who was making a mental note to give his a friend a good pummelling later on. "He's had a bit to drink," said Bristel. "Not that it's an excuse really. This is pretty much how he is all the time. I'm Bristel, by the way. This idiot-" she jerked her thumb at her boyfriend, "-is Thom. No need to introduce yourself, o'course."

Madge gripped Gale's hand a little tighter. He didn't blame her. His friends were quite a lot to take in.

"Enough chit chat," said Thom. "There's a party going on, in case you hadn't noticed. Ripper brought the good stuff. Everything's free tonight." He pulled Bristel back into the crowd.

"Sorry about that," said Gale with a grimace. "He gets a little...excited."

To his surprise, when he looked at Madge, she burst out laughing. "He's absolutely crazy," she gasped. She caught her breath, straightened up, and smiled wide. "I like him."

* * *

Gradually, Madge relaxed. It was hard not to with Thom and Bristel for company. The four of them stole a good spot close to the bonfire. She couldn't remember ever laughing so hard. Thom never slowed down. The way he and Bristel bickered back and forth had her in tears. They were unlike any people she'd met before. They treated her like they'd known her for years, as if she was one of them. Tonight, she set aside the burden of being the mayor's daughter and allowed herself to simply be.

Bristel passed around a flask of something that smelled horribly like rubbing alcohol. Madge didn't risk it. She felt giddy enough already just being here, sitting knee to knee with Gale on a gnarled log, with his arm draped over her shoulders. She noticed he wasn't sipping from the flask, either.

"You can drink," she told him. "I don't care."

When Gale turned to look at her, their noses almost touched. "Don't need to," he said. "I'd rather remember this in the morning."

Madge's racing heart drowned out the sound of Thom's voice, the music, the crackle of the fire. He leaned in to kiss her. She closed her eyes, felt his breath on her lips, wondered if it was possible to be any happier than she was right then…

"Gale, dance wit me!"

* * *

Gale groaned inwardly as Posy tugged on the back of his shirt, drawing him away from Madge's pink and parted lips. _Damn it, Posy._ He was about to tell her to bugger off, when Madge gave his shoulder a light shove.

"Go on," she said. "I'm fine here."

"Yeah, we'll take care of her," said Thom. He flashed a devilish grin at Gale. "Me and Undersee have a few things to discuss."

Gale didn't like the sound of that, but Posy was still tugging at his shirt, forcing him to his feet. Resigned to his fate, he swept Posy into the air and carried her to the makeshift dance floor away from the heat of the fire. Kissing Madge would just have to wait a little longer.

* * *

Contrary to their promise to look after her, Bristel and Thom soon joined the dancing. Madge didn't mind a moment alone. She enjoyed watching Gale twirl Posy around. The little girl's black curls flew wild. She spotted Thom and Bristel. The other dancers kept a safe distance from their sporadic thrashing. Delly, sitting across the fire with some other girls from town, caught her eye and waved. Everything was perfect. More than perfect. Madge didn't spare a thought for the Capitol, or the Games, or her mother. She was too busy soaking it all in.

Then a familiar, cold and drawling voice shattered the perfection. "Well, if it isn't Miss Mayor," said Embry Royce. "Couldn't find a date to the dance?"

"Go away," said Madge. She refused to let Embry ruin this night.

"Thought you might want some company," said Embry, towering over Madge, looking down at her. "You look so pathetic, sitting here all alone. My sister told me you were coming with Gale Hawthorne, but I knew that had to be a lie. I mean, the Games are over now."

Madge's jaw clenched. Her fists shook in her lap. "Your sister?" she said.

"Your maid," said Embry, as if the words were sour on her tongue. "I bet you don't even know her name."

Madge's eyes widened in shock. _Impossible._ There was no way that Nedy was related to Embry Royce. Then again, she had never asked for her maid's last name. Still, Nedy was kind, and sympathetic, and everything that Embry wasn't. _She's cheeky and sharp-tongued, too_ , thought Madge. Qualities which Embry possessed in great quantity.

"So what," said Embry, "did you come here hoping to win him back? Bad plan. Guys like him don't go for desperate, wide-eyed virgins."

Madge leapt to her feet, unsure what she meant to do exactly. Before she figured it out, arms snaked around her waist.

* * *

"Having fun, Royce?" said Gale, clasping his hands over Madge's stomach. He hadn't heard much of their conversation, but he'd heard more than he needed to. Without waiting for her to answer, he spun Madge around and kissed her. No interruptions this time.

* * *

Madge was too caught off guard to react. She went stiff as a statue. Soon, Gale broke

away. Embry Royce gaped at them, but Madge had forgotten all about her nemesis. Her head buzzed, not in a pleasant way. The kiss was all wrong.

She didn't want to be here anymore. There was too much noise, too much heat, too much

everything. She wriggled free of Gale's arms and fled.

* * *

"Looks like you scared her off," said Embry. "Not surprising. Miss Mayor's probably

never even touched a boy before."

Gale barely heard her. What just happened? He was certain Madge had wanted to

kiss him. All night, whenever she thought he wasn't looking, maybe without realizing it herself, her eyes had wandered to his lips. So what was with the vanishing act?

Royce was still blabbering. "Shut up," he snapped at her. Embry's mouth closed into a

dagger-thin line. He left her to fume and went in search of Madge. Thom found him first.

"You wanna explain why Undersee just ran out of here like there was a firing squad on

her ass?" he said.

Gale ignored the question. He was wondering the answer to that himself. "Which way did

she go?"

"Towards town," said Thom. "I don't think she wants to be followed. She looked kinda-"

Gale didn't stay to hear the rest. He was already running in the direction of town.

* * *

Madge expected Gale to follow her. She meant to be safe behind the locked doors and windows of her house before he caught up. She was almost there when she heard her name echo along the quiet, lamplit street. Instead of stopping, she broke into another run. She made it to her front door, only to find it locked. As she fumbled for her keys, Gale reached her.

"What the hell was that, Undersee?" he panted, clutching a stitch in his side.

"I could ask you the same," she snapped. Her fingers closed around her key. When she went to jam it into the lock, Gale grabbed her wrist. Hissing, she stumbled back. "Don't touch me."

"Fine," he said, raising his hands in the air. "Mind explaining why you ditched me back there?"

Madge rounded on him. She was tempted to throw her keys at his stupid, perfect face. "You kissed me," she said.

Gale's brow furrowed in confusion. "I thought you wanted me to."

"Not like that," she said. "Not to prove a point to Embry Royce."

"I was just trying to-"

"Save it, Hawthorne." She didn't want to hear what he was trying to do. She felt like enough of an idiot as it was. Turning her back to him, she made another attempt to put the key in the lock, but her hands were shaking too furiously. After a second, she gave up and spun back around. "Why did you even ask me to go with you? Because you felt sorry for me? Because you think I'm pathetic?"

"What? No," said Gale. "What're you on about now?"

"I don't need your pity," she said, jabbing him in the chest. "I thought...Never mind. Just go back to the party. Find some other girl to fool around with. One who isn't such a loser."

This time, she managed to fit the key into the hole.

* * *

Before she locked him out, Gale grabbed her by both arms and pinned her to the door.

"Let me go," she said, struggling to break free.

"No," he said. "You're going to listen to me first. I don't know what all Royce said to you, but you know better than to listen to her. I asked you out, because I wanted to. I kissed you, because I wanted to."

Madge stopped struggling. Her frown remained.

"Maybe I didn't go about it the right way," he continued. "And yeah, I heard a bit of what she said, and yeah, I got angry and was trying to prove a point." Her frown deepened. "But the point is, I like you."

* * *

Gale Hawthorne _liked_ her. She _liked_ him. It just didn't seem possible. She couldn't process the fact. There he was, saying the words. She heard them loud and clear, felt them dancing around within reach, but when she tried to grasp them, those three words, _I like you_ , slipped through her fingers. They were a key she couldn't quite make fit into a lock she wasn't she she wanted opened, because anything might be lurking behind this door.

 _If you never open any doors, you'll never go anywhere_ , she thought. She'd stood on the other side of the fence and if she could go beyond District Twelve, she could go anywhere. Boundaries didn't keep anyone safe. Boundaries kept you trapped.

"Kiss me again," said Madge. "Only do it better this time. Really kiss me."

"Alright, Undersee," said Gale, grinning. "Just remember, you asked for it. No running off this time." He leaned into her, further pressing her against the door. "I won't let you."

Good, she was sick of running without going anywhere. Maybe standing still, she could go someplace new.


	20. Carried Too Far

**AN:** This dose of smut comes at a bitter price...

* * *

"Farewell, false love, the oracle of lies…"

Sir Walter Raleigh

Gale started slow. He kissed the corner of her mouth, lingering only a second, and then drew back. He took in the delicate, blue veins threading her closed eyelids, the light dusting of freckles across her brow, and the little bump at the bridge of her button nose.

"Stop that," said Madge, eyes still closed. "I can feel you staring at me. It's weird."

"Just enjoying the view," he said.

"Well, I wish you-"

Gale pressed his lips to her's in full. He kissed her softly once, twice, a few times, while his hand slid beneath her hair. He caressed the back of her neck with his fingertips. It'd been a long time since he kissed a girl this way, unhurriedly, carefully. When he finally took her bottom lip between his, she clutched at him. He felt the slight scrape of her nails on his chest through the fabric of his shirt.

"Better than last time?" he said, resting his forehead against hers.

* * *

Madge responded in the only way that seemed logical to her right then, by catching his mouth again, wanting more, and taking more. Nedy was right. Gale Hawthorne was dangerous, the most wonderful sort of dangerous. She knew her kisses were clumsy in comparison to his and didn't care the least little bit. Instinct overpowered thought. Hunger drove out fear, hesitancy, doubt.

* * *

For awhile, Gale let her lead. It was the best way to learn and she learned fast. Remarkably fast. Still, he was surprised when she ran the tip of her tongue across his lower lip. He certainly had not shown her that. It seemed an invitation to teach her things he hadn't planned on, advanced techniques involving…

Gale reminded himself where they stood, at the mayor's front door, exposed. He jerked back his head. Madge tilted her's forward to keep them together. He gripped her shoulders, holding her still, and broke the kiss.

"Easy there," he said.

"Why?" said Madge, breathless and demanding. He almost laughed at how stubborn she was, even when it came to kissing, only the way she looked at him stirred a feeling other than humor.

* * *

"Because we shouldn't get carried away, and I will if you keep on like that," said Gale. "Also, we're kind of out in the open here."

Reluctantly, Madge accepted it was a fair point. It was late. The windows of the houses lining the street were all dark, but that didn't mean no one was watching. She wasn't ready to say goodnight yet. Tomorrow seemed so distant. Too much could change between now and then. Besides, she was eager to be carried away. All of her promises to Nedy, and to herself, seemed made to be broken. She'd wasted too much of her life being cautious. After the past few weeks of worrying about Katniss in the arena, she needed not to think, to be caught up in the dizzying swell of sweet emotions that Gale's touch provided. She needed release.

"Do you want to come inside?" she asked him.

Gale let go of her. "I probably shouldn't."

"I didn't ask if you should," she said. "I asked if you wanted to."

* * *

 _Say no_ , thought Gale. He couldn't. Unbidden, he saw Katniss kissing Peeta Mellark in the caves. When Madge opened the front door and stepped through, the sight drove him inside behind her. He followed her into a room he'd never been in before. A grand piano stood before the shuttered windows stretching all the way across the back wall. During the day, he imagined this room was flooded with sunlight. He felt Madge watching him as he ran his hand over the glossy black top of the piano. He felt her closing in behind him. If he turned around, that'd be the end of it. She was too willing, too tempting, too _there_. He wanted to forget about Katniss, to squash the ache and fill the emptiness she'd left him with.

"What are you thinking?" said Madge. He couldn't tell her the truth. Not now, not after she'd invited him in, so he turned around and reached for her.

* * *

There was nothing slow or gentle about their kissing now. Open-mouthed, greedy, careless. Madge squeaked when he lifted her onto the piano. She locked her legs around him, tangled her fingers in his hair, pulled him closer, craving the heat that radiated from his body. Her dress was hiked up around her waist. His thigh pressed against her, separated only by the thin cotton of her panties and the coarse fabric of his slacks, in a place that had never been touched by anyone other than herself.

"Your dad," gasped Gale, trailing kisses along her jaw. Madge mustered the effort to speak.

"Out," she said. "He won't…" Gale sucked on her neck, right below the ear, and she faltered a moment. A high-pitched whine, like no sound she'd made before, snuck past her lips. He paused what he was doing to let her finish her sentence. "He won't be back tonight."

* * *

Satisfied by her answer, Gale immediately went back to work. The time to stop and consider whether this was right or wrong had passed. He didn't care. It'd been so long since he'd felt the irresistible softness of a woman's body and he realized how much he had missed this. With impatient hands, he undid Madge's buttons and pushed her dress back from her shoulders. She dropped her arms from around his neck to slip them free of her sleeves, but before she managed, he kissed his way from her mouth to the swell of her breasts.

* * *

Madge gripped the slick edge of the piano. She didn't care that her arms were still pinned by her dress sleeves snagged at her elbows. With a swift and practiced flick, Gale unclasped her bra. Cold air struck her chest, but then his warm lips were on her again. She'd imagined this moment and always expected to be embarrassed, ashamed even, the first time a boy saw her bared. She felt only a nervous thrill. Dogs frightened her, the Capitol and the future frightened her, but this…

Right now, she wasn't afraid, not in the slightest. Knowing what she wanted without consciously knowing, she reached for Gale's belt. As she fumbled, her knuckles grazed something hard and tantalizing new.

Gale moaned. "Katniss," he said, the name muffled against her skin, but sounding clear and sharp in her head. Madge plummeted in a heartbeat.

* * *

As soon as the name escaped, Gale realized the terrible mistake he'd made. Madge went stiff. He straightened up to look at her and wished he hadn't. The hurt in her eyes was worse than a kick in the groin.

"Shit," he said, the first word that came to him. "Madge, I'm-" Before he could get out an apology, her blue eyes turned to ice. She put her hands flat to his chest and shoved hard.

"Out," she said, covering herself with her arms. Her voice was eerily calm. He'd rather she yell at him, hit him, throw something at him.

"Madge, please, let me explain. I-"

"Leave now," she said. "Or I'll scream."

The threat was severe. If she screamed, someone would come running. The mayor's half-dressed daughter and a boy from the seam didn't paint a pretty picture. He knew what the assumption would be and it was enough to land him imprisoned or worse. Gale did the only thing he could think to do. He left.

* * *

He wanted Katniss. He loved Katniss. _Not me,_ thought Madge. How could she have missed it? The truth coursed through her like red hot fire, burning away every last trace of blind happiness. She didn't know if she felt jealous, devastated, humiliated, angry at him, angry at herself for believing a word he said. She'd opened a door and now she only wanted to slam it shut. How many times had he promised that he wasn't using her, that she wasn't just a temporary fix? All of it lies. He didn't see her anymore than anyone else did. She was the shadow of the girl he really loved.

Madge sat at the piano. Her hands trembled over the keys a moment, and then she lowered them, striking a discordant note to echo the coil of contrary emotions at war within her. She struck the keys again and again, writing a furious composition of her own, an ugly and hateful song that hardly sounded like music. She didn't care if she woke her mother from her morphling dreams. She didn't care if she woke the whole District. Playing was the only way she knew how to cope. It was the only form of release she could trust. People lied and betrayed. Music never did. Music was always honest.

* * *

Gale stood at the Undersee's front door with his back to the darkened hall. The walls around him shook with the force of Madge's song. He thought his ears might bleed. It wasn't music. It was raw emotion, crescendos of pain, sharps of rage, an arpeggio of regret. He wanted to go back to her, make her stop, but her mad song scared him senseless.

There wasn't anything to say, no excuse to give. He cringed at a particularly bitter chord. Madge had forgiven him for a lot. This time, though, he knew she wouldn't. He'd done the unforgivable in her eyes. He'd confused her for someone else. Gale didn't even want to be forgiven. From the moment he invited her to the party, deep down he'd known that he was using her, known he was being selfish, and he hated himself for it. Madge Undersee deserved a thousand times better than him. She deserved to be loved and he couldn't love her. He'd given it a try and the result was disaster.

No longer able to bear the sound of the damage he'd done, he threw open the front door and fled, but her song chased him down the street. It thundered in his head every step of the way home.

* * *

 **AN Continued:** Did I say I was sorry? Let me just say it again. I am so, so, so sorry. This is what Gale gets, though, for trying to bury his true feelings. I do hate that Madge must be an innocent victim. Though in Gale's defense, he did sort of try to walk away before it was too late. Pretty sure next chapter will be the last one for THG.


	21. End at the Start

"Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards."

Soren Kierkegarrd

Madge refused to be heartbroken. She wouldn't wallow. The morning after her disastrous first date, she woke up with her tear stained cheek stuck to the pillow and swore to herself she'd never cry herself to sleep over a boy again. Not Gale Hawthorne. Not anyone. She washed her face, tied back her hair, and went to work in the garden. For the next three days, she followed the same routine.

As she warred with the weeds, ripping them out from the soil by the roots, Madge focused on Katniss' homecoming tomorrow. She didn't plan on telling her friend anything that had happened in District Twelve during the Games. Better to forget about it. She didn't blame Katniss for anything. It wasn't her fault that Gale was in love with her. It wasn't her fault that he'd lied. Madge doubted Katniss even knew how he felt. Maybe she never would. Madge wasn't going to be the one to tell her.

"Are you ever going to tell me what happened the other night?" said Nedy, watching Madge from the garden gate.

"No," said Madge. She didn't look up from her task. The weeds were particularly stubborn this year.

"It helps to talk," said Nedy. "I won't judge. I promise."

Madge sat back on her heels. She inspected the dirt caked into the creases of her palms. "I'll judge myself," she admitted. She should have seen the truth sooner. In hindsight, Gale's feelings were painfully obvious. She should've known that day on the platform, when she'd caught him staring after Katniss' Capitol bound train like the world had just exploded in his face.

"I just want to go back to normal," said Madge. She grabbed the nearest weed and pulled with all her strength.

"I don't think anything's going to be normal again," said Nedy. When Madge made no sign of response, she sighed. "Come inside soon. You'll get heatstroke if you keep on like this."

Madge nodded to show she'd heard, but she didn't plan on stopping until the sun went down. _Katniss is coming home,_ she reminded herself. _It's over._ Hard as she tried to deny it, though, she knew Nedy was right. The Games had only just begun. There were more important things to concern herself with than a stupid boy from the seam, so she refused to be heartbroken. She refused to wallow. What good would it do herself or anyone else?

* * *

The Capitol train moved so quickly that Katniss felt she was standing still, though the orchards of District 11 swept past on the other side of the thick, glass windows. She saw Rue in the boughs of every tree. The train would've stopped here if she was still alive.

"It wasn't your fault," said Peeta. His company was so quiet, so unobtrusive, she often forgot he was in the same room, but it never surprised her to remember. No more than it surprised her how he knew what she was thinking just then. He was always in the room with her and he always knew what was thinking, because he was usually thinking the same. No matter how many times Effie gushed over their victory, neither of them felt victorious, and neither of them felt they were free of the arena.

"You didn't kill her," said Peeta.

"I didn't save her," said Katniss.

"You saved me."

Katniss flinched when he touched her shoulder and drew away. The Capitolites thought she was a silly girl, madly, desperately in love. Peeta thought she was some sort of hero and that was so much worse. Holding that handful of nightlock, she'd fully expected to die and she had been prepared, as long as she died on her own terms, as herself, and not a Capitol mutt. It was selfish. She didn't care about Peeta. In that moment, she'd even been willing to abandon Prim. Now as they sped towards District 12, she wished the Capitol had let them eat the berries, or that Peeta had killed her and returned home alone. How could she live with what she'd done and been willing to do? How could she live with the ghosts of those she'd killed and those she hadn't saved?

Again, Peeta knew what she was thinking. "We did what we had to do to win," he said. "We're going home. We have to try putting it behind us."

Katniss finally looked at him. As their eyes met, she knew, contrary to his words, that he wouldn't be able to put the arena behind him anymore than her. There was no joy in going home for either of them. They hadn't won anything. She turned back to the wide window and wondered if Rue's family was among the distant specks of people laboring in the orchards. Rue hadn't hurt anyone. If any of the tributes deserved to be going home, if anyone had won the Capitol's twisted game, it was her.

* * *

"Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips," said Madge. She snapped off part of a low hanging branch and used it to tickle Gale's cheek as they walked home from the lake, both of them still dripping from their swim.

"What?" said Gale, swatting away the twig. "We're not lost. I know where we are."

"I know you know," said Madge. "It's from a poem."

Gale rolled his eyes. After another few minutes, with nothing but the sound of Madge stumbling along through the undergrowth, he said, "Go on. Let's hear the rest."

"Not if you're just going to roll your eyes at me," said Madge.

"You owe me for the kiss," said Gale. He glanced at her to make sure she was blushing. Good, she was. "And the bloody nose," he added.

Madge shot him a glare. Deciding she'd rather finish reciting the poem than continue the current conversation, she looked straight ahead and picked up where she left off. "Something from far off it seemed deep and secret to me, hidden by the earth, a shout muffled by huge autumns, by the moist half-open darkness of the leaves."

Gale watched her face scrunch in concentration as she tried to remember the next part. "Wakening from the dreaming forest there, the hazel sprig sang under my tongue," she said. "It's drifting fragrance climbed up through my conscious mind…"

* * *

Sitting alone in the meadow, gazing out past the fence, towards the woods, the tops of pine trees basked in noon light, Gale thought of that day walking home with Madge from the lake. The memory caught him off guard. He'd been thinking of Katniss, how he'd see her again, in person, in just a few hours, and then suddenly, Madge's voice was in his head. He closed his eyes to hear the memory better.

" _...climbed up through my conscious mind as if suddenly the roots I had left behind cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood-and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent."_

What did it mean? If only he could ask her. He remembered telling her that they weren't lost and now, opening his eyes to the woods again, he almost laughed at how stupid he'd been. They were lost. He just hadn't realized until too late.

* * *

The platform was packed. People lined the tracks in both directions as far as Madge could see. She remembered coming here on Reaping Day. There hadn't been a crowd. Only Gale Hawthorne. He hadn't spoken a word to her that day. They weren't speaking now. _Back to normal,_ she thought. Except there were more Peacekeepers around than normal, and two victors were coming home to 12, and when Madge spotted Gale in the crowd, seeing him for the first time since their last fight, she ached in an entirely not-normal way. He looked exactly as he had on Reaping Day, his eyes on a distant train, his heart with another girl.

* * *

A month ago, standing in this very same spot, Gale had watched his best friend, the only girl he'd ever loved, be carried away, stolen from him without warning or mercy. A month ago, watching that train disappear around the bend, he hadn't thought to ever see Katniss again, to talk to her, touch her, feel more than just the ghost of her presence walking beside him. Throughout the Games, despite his constant reassurances to Prim, he hadn't truly believed this day would ever come. He hadn't let himself hope. Even now he was afraid this was all a dream, too good to be true, too impossible to be happening.

Prim held his arm to steady herself as she rose up onto the tips of her toes, trying to see over the line of stony-faced Peacekeepers separating the victors' families from the rest of the crowd. Gale tore his eyes from the train tracks to look at her and found his own anxious disbelief etched across her face.

"Here, let me give you a lift," he said. He bent down a little and swooped her up onto his shoulders with ease. She weighed next to nothing, but she'd gotten taller, and he realized that this was probably the last time he'd be able to carry her this way. He gripped her knees to keep her from toppling backwards and winced, without complaint, when she yanked his hair as she sought to balance herself.

Once she was secure, his gaze travelled over the crowd. Everyone in 12 was here. He saw Thom, with his arm around Bristel, leading a group of their classmates in song, but he couldn't make out which one above the celebratory roar of eager voices. He saw the men who'd worked on his father's mining crew, the men who'd survived and sacrificed what little they had in that first year after the accident to help support the Hawthorne and Everdeen families, and who were now standing as close to the train tracks as the Peacekeepers would allow, to welcome home their fallen comrade's daughter. Even Greasy Sae, who hadn't gone anywhere other than the Hob for as long as he'd been alive, and probably even longer, was here. She caught him staring and winked. In all the time he'd known her, he couldn't remember ever having seen her with a genuine smile, her cheeks puckered like the wrinkled skin of an apple and her milky blue eyes as bright and hopeful as a young girl's. He saw people he loved, people he didn't like, and people he didn't know, each and every one of them smiling just as vibrantly as Greasy Sae.

Then his gaze landed on Madge Undersee, standing beside her father on a raised platform, above them all. Like the Everdeens, like him, she wasn't smiling. She stood so still that if it weren't for the way the wind gently stirred the loose curls framing her pale, heart-shaped face, he might have mistaken her for a painted statue. If it weren't for the memory of her frantically pacing his front yard, rambling incoherently about the importance of their final interviews for the Capitol, or the memory of her flying across her kitchen, with all of its shiny and foreign appliances, to throw her arms around him after he'd told her that Katniss had woken up from her tracker jacker delirium, or the memory of her face pressed against his shoulder as they waited in agony for the Gamemakers' canine mutations to finish off Cato, then he might have mistaken her for someone who didn't care at all.

A month ago, Gale wouldn't have noticed the slight trembling of her hands, the way she she had to fight to stay motionless, composed, perfect. It shocked him how thin the facade actually was and it shocked him even more that, somehow, he hadn't seen through it years ago. How had he ever believed she was cold and uncaring? Because looking at her now, though there was no outward change, not the slightest difference from her blonde head to her manicured fingernails to her lacy socks and polished black shoes, Gale saw a frightened and unsure girl, valiantly standing still, when she wanted to run, and keep running, and never stop, but couldn't, because she cared too damn much.

Suddenly, as if she felt him staring, Madge turned her head and their eyes locked, blue to gray. The noise of the crowd fell away. The sun dipped behind a cloud. Time careened off the tracks and crashed into the moment they were in, broke apart, scattered between them like rusty axles too fragile to keep together the out of control train they'd climbed aboard together the day Katniss left.

Gale forgot about their last night together, the damage he'd caused, the pain he'd never meant to inflict, and the guilt that had gnawed away at him since. He wanted to go to her, take her hand, steady himself against her unwavering endurance. If today was a dream, as he dreaded, he wanted his ally to be by his side when he woke. She didn't belong up there, on a platform above everyone else, separated from everyone else. She belonged in the tall grass of the meadow, chasing butterflies, in her mother's garden, up to her elbows in the soft earth, in his kitchen, sitting with his family around the table and laughing at something one of his siblings had just said. She belonged with him, in the crowd, with her people, townies and seam folk alike.

* * *

Under Gale's gray stare, Madge felt vulnerable and exposed. She felt all too human. The numbness she'd imposed upon herself for the last few days, and all the days before she'd come to know him, was shattered by a teeming rush of doubt, longing, regret, and hurt. The way he looked at her, like he could see every flaw she tried so desperately to conceal and like none of them mattered to him at all, made her want to leap from the platform and go to him, give into the shelter of his arms, kiss him, forgive him, love him even if he never loved her in the same way. What did it matter if his heart belonged to Katniss, as long as he looked at her like _that_ , as long as he made her own heart soar, as well as sore.

It did matter, though, as much as she wished it didn't. He would settle for her, if she gave him the chance, but she couldn't bare the inevitable day when he looked at her and saw someone else. She knew from experience that no good, no happiness, came from living a lie and she wouldn't lie to herself now by believing she could make him stop loving Katniss.

Madge forced herself to look away. She set her eyes to the future, to the silver train appearing around the bend, and the people of District Twelve swarming towards the tracks, waving their hands in the air, shouting out hope in unison. _My people,_ she thought, lifting her head high, squaring her shoulders in readiness. She knew who she was now. Not her dead aunt Maysilee, not the mayor's perfect as porcelain daughter, and not Katniss Everdeen.

 _I am my District._ In the days to come, however the Capitol retaliated against them for Katniss' victory, and Madge sensed retaliation in the increased number of Peacekeepers, she would stand firm and protect her people, even Embry Royce, in anyway she could. She was done playing the Capitol's game, done smiling for them, done accepting their insults and injustices. Gale Hawthorne was just a boy. Love was just a selfish waste of energy. Madge swore to never let either distract her from what really mattered.

* * *

When Madge turned away from him, Gale kept looking at her until he heard the near rumble of a train. Even then, his gaze lingered a moment longer on the mayor's daughter. Someday, he would make amends with her, whatever it took. Someday, he'd find the courage to do what he should've that night, instead of fleeing, and tell her the truth, that he was in love with Katniss, only Katniss, and he was sorry for trying to replace her with Madge, because he knew who she was, she deserved to be loved for who she was, and he'd never forget who she was again. Someday, he would thank her for being his ally and his friend, though he hadn't earned the position of either. Someday, but not today, because there was a train to greet.

Gale stopped breathing as the train came to a smooth stop. His heart pounded. His entire body resonated with District Twelve's thunderous welcome. Madge Undersee slipped to the very back of his mind. He closed his eyes as the gleaming metal doors, emblazoned with the Capitol's signia, began to part. This was it. The impossible moment. What if Katniss wasn't Katniss anymore? What if a mutation walked through those doors instead of the girl he knew and loved? What if nothing at all walked through those doors? What if…?

"It's her!" said Prim. "She's home. She's really home!"

Gale took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and there she was, just as he remembered her, dark braid over one shoulder, smiling right at him. Gale tightened his grip on Prim, who was waving so enthusiastically that she teetered on his shoulders, and smiled back at her. The past month flickered, dimmed, became small and insignificant. He barely noticed Peeta Mellark smiling and waving at his own family. There was only Katniss in the world. In his world. There could only ever be Katniss. He didn't think about what he would to say to her once the cameras stopped flashing and the crowd dispersed. He didn't think about anything beyond right now, smiling at Katniss, being smiled at by her, and how right it felt after so long of feeling wrong.

 _She's home,_ he thought. _She's really home._ It was as if he'd been away, too, and was just now coming back to where he belonged.

* * *

 **AN:** It is done. Well, this part at least. You'll notice I changed the title, because this story ended up going a completely different direction from the original plan and the old title doesn't really fit anymore. Stay tuned for the sequel. I don't have as much time to live in Gadge world as I'd like, but I promise to post as frequently as being an adult person with stupid adult responsibilities allows for.

To all readers out there, thank you for sparing some of your precious time on this story, for your feedback, and your patience.

A few vague hints for the sequel to keep your appetite whetted...A wedding, the Quarter Quell (significantly altered), rekindled alliances, Katniss and Peeta P.O.V.s, and (as always) a whole lot of drama. Should be interesting (and pretty damn awkward) to see what happens when our four star-crossed lovers are thrown together again...

:)


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